


You’re Always In My Head

by peglegMeglikeskegs



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Country!Bucky Barnes, Dating, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfot, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Football, High School Drama, High School Students, Insecurity, Joseph Rogers Kind Of Sucks, M/M, Prep!Steve Rogers, Recreational Drug Use, Self Confidence Issues, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, sad Steve Rogers, two different worlds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 49,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8343673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peglegMeglikeskegs/pseuds/peglegMeglikeskegs
Summary: Steve sticks to his routine and never wavers – from the first second he opens his eyes to the last.  He never complains, until a boy with captivating eyes shows him what happens when you throw caution to the wind and take a chance.Turns out a lot can happen, including love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I did not create nor do I own the characters in this story!
> 
> Enjoy!

At 7AM most boys are being roused from bed and forced to quickly change or school, skipping breakfast in order to catch the bus.

But for Steve Rogers, he’s already had two cups of coffee, ran for three miles, completed his sunrise meditation, showered, and donned his S.H.I.E.L.D. academy uniform for school.

“If you’re up after the sun then you’re late.”  Steve’s father hammered this mantra, and others similar, into Steve’s head since he was five years old.  And now he can barely remember a time when he didn’t wake up to the darkness before the dawn.

But not that Steve minds.  Especially during his morning yoga, he revels in the opportunity to clear his mind and focus on his goals and responsibilities for the day.

And as his prep school’s starting quarterback and team captain, president of the senior class, leader of the humanitarian club, founder of the LGBTQ Allies Association, and current valedictorian, Steve’s to-do list is endless.  Not to mention keeping a presentable image for his parent’s sake – the CEO of SteelCorp Industries, Joseph Rogers, prides himself on his well-rounded and wholesome family.

And Steve, being the textbook people-pleaser, always strives to do what his parents want and expect of him.  Sure there was a time when he resented having to be a nice boy and his every step planned out by his parents.  But the older he became the less time his parents paid attention to him.  And Steve’s daily routine was so ingrained into his head, he didn’t see any reason to stray from the path.

“Steve?  Are you listening to me?”

Steve looks up from his eggs and into the stern eyes of Maria Hill, his family’s personal assistant.  She has been with the Rogers for eight years now, working with Joseph’s own secretary to balance his work and personal calendars while managing the personal agendas of the family.  After Mrs. Rogers realized she needed help with their daily schedules, Howard Stark recommended his head of HR based in New York City.  After a short interview, which more than proved her worth, Maria moved down to the Rogers’ residence in Marvin, North Carolina and became a permanent presence in their home.  Planning parties and events, helping Mrs. Rogers with her committees and clubs, and even keeping Steve organized.   Maria has been an effective, efficient and quite terrifying PA.

“Oh, sorry Ms. Hill.  I was just daydreaming – please continue.”

Maria just glared at Steve as she typed into her phone, undoubtedly making up for the lost time.  He has been on Maria’s bad side before, and he has no desire to return to her blacklist. 

“I was just reminding you of your schedule: school until 2:30, a meeting with the homecoming committee regarding the senior’s responsibilities, football practice from 3-5:30, and the tutoring program at LeHigh High School begins tonight.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that.”  Steve groaned.

A rustle of newspaper has Steve sitting up quickly and looking down the table, but the front page of the paper was all he saw.  “It’ll look good on your college application.”  His father retorted from behind his printed wall.  His tone indicated that there was no more to be said on the matter.

Honestly Steve was even surprise his father managed to make time for breakfast, and Steve can’t help but wonder if there’s some other reason or ulterior motive that brings Joseph Rogers to the table.

Maria gave Steve a look, neither comforting nor hard, that managed to boot his spirits marginally.  “Just as a reminder, Peggy will be flying in Thursday night, and your dinner with her and the Wilsons is still being held at the Stark’s residence on Friday.  And she did confirm that Sharon will be with her for this weekend visit.”

Steve perked up slightly, hearing that one of his best friends will be coming in from London this weekend with her aunt Peggy Carter, a precision weapons specialist working for the British Army.

“Wonderful.”  Joseph finally set his paper down and scrutinized at Steve from his place at the head of the table.  “Steven, you are to invite Sharon to your homecoming dance next month, I’m sure she would love to accompany you.”

Ahhhhh, the true reason for the patriarch’s presence is finally revealed.  And the inkling disappointment from assuming Joseph would genuinely want to spend time with his wife and son follows closely behind.  Steve shouldn’t be mad, it happens every time.

Just like he shouldn’t be mad his parents encouraging him to court and woo Sharon.  But Steve knows there some things are just not meant to be.  He and Sharon are one of those things, and it has nothing to do with her personality or looks.

It’s due to the fact that he is 100% gay.

Steve takes comfort with the knowledge that Sharon is aware of his sexual orientation and is more than happy to act as his beard until his figures out when/how to crush his parents’ dreams.  But he made that promise two years ago and he can see the timer counting down the minutes until this lie blows up in his face.  And even though Steve is confident and comfortable with his sexuality, he’s not sure enough to tell his parents that their only son is gay and all of their efforts to encourage Steve to put a ring on Sharon’s finger have failed miserably.

But he’s not about to spoil breakfast on this fine Tuesday morning, right?

“Is she even going to be around?” Steve asks his father, his voice working hard to show no emotion.

“I spoke with Ms. Carter’s assistant and she has plans to come back for Stark Tower’s 10th anniversary.”  Maria spoke up.  “This event happens the Thursday before homecoming.”

“Oh how wonderful!”  Sarah gushes and Steve has to hold back his annoyance.  Despite his mother’s suggestions he truly loves her and will rarely do anything to upset her.  “Steve, you should get her an arrangement for Thursday – some heliotropes and honeysuckles would look lovely.”

Steve sighed and looked down at his plate, his appetite long gone.  He so desperately wanted to confess he has no true romantic love for Sharon and desires nothing more than to find his own love his own way.  But he didn’t want to ruin his mother’s day.

“No,” he said quietly.  “She prefers violets with ivy.”

He didn’t have to look up to know he made Sarah happy, he could hear his mother clucking appreciatively.  The gentle and quick tapping confirmed that Maria getting in contact with their florist for the bouquet.

But he did look up just in time to see his father nod approvingly and give a “that’s my boy,” before departing for work.

It wasn’t much but Steve would take what he could get.

*****

“You can’t keep this going forever, you know that right?”

“Yes, I know.”

“So why are you dragging this out?”

Steve glared into the face of Sam Wilson, one of his best friends.  “You know damn well why I can’t.”

“I don’t.”  Tony Stark spoke up, leaning his chair back on two legs and scanning the cafeteria.  “You don’t see my parents throwing a fit every time I decide to step out with a classy lady or three.”

Steve turned his glower to Tony.  “Well excuse me for not ‘stepping out’ with a gaggle of women, and for wanting to keep my parents off my back.”

“If you piss them off enough, they’ll eventually pay you to stay away.”  Tony met Steve’s scowl with a smirk through his rose-tinted sunglasses.  “Hey it beats being their bitch.”

“Enough.”  Sam cut in, holding his hand up to Steve’s furious face.  “Tony, don’t be an ass.  Steve, don’t get so offended when we try to help your problem.  Now kiss and make up.”

Still feeling bitter, Steve muttered an apology.  Tony just rolled his eyes and returned to people watching.  9 out of the 10 conversations Steve has with his friends work like this – Steve and Tony arguing about some simple nonsense with Sam stepping in before things get ugly and forcing them to make amends.

Steve doesn’t mind it too much – in fact, he’s grateful for Sam’s presence.  One of Joseph’s first contacts was Howard Stark, CEO and founder of Stark Industries.  The advanced weaponry and defense technology company created a partnership with SteelCorp while Howard and Joseph became close friends.  Soon enough the Rogers were invited to dinner at the Starks and Steve learned at a young age that Tony is an obnoxious and arrogant shit.

As Howard and Joseph ventured into further business deals, the families became tightly knit, which meant holidays and vacations became Rogers and Stark extravaganzas.  Steve was tossed in with Tony more than he wanted, but after a while Tony’s ego deflated and he proved to be a loyal and trustworthy friend.

Nevertheless, before Sam came into the picture there were plenty of shouting matches and fights happening in the cafeteria at school, usually over trivial things such as politics and school rules. 

Sam came into the group by happy coincidence – Mr. Wilson was SteelCorp’s new corporate lawyer and after he moved to S.H.I.E.L.D. their sophomore year Steve couldn’t help but become friends with Sam.  Easygoing yet focused, Sam was the perfect addition to Steve and Tony’s stressful and antagonizing pairing. 

Mr. Wilson had even stepped in once when Sarah needed a lawyer to defend her in court after she received a ticket for a speeding violation.  Eventually the Rogers and Stark extravaganzas upgraded to the Rogers, Stark and Wilson spectacles, and Steve was all the happier.

Two years later and Steve finds himself sitting in the cafeteria at lunch while Sam gives up a comforting and sympathetic look while Tony continues to look around.

“Alright, how about we just drop the subject and talk about something interesting, like football.”

“Ugh, pass,” Tony groaned at Steve’s suggestion.  “There’s nothing fun about hearing how the sweaty dudes shove each other around and use their pent-up sexual energy to pin each other down…you know what?  Now it makes perfect sense of why you like to talk about it so much Rogers.”

Steve shot him a look.  “Way to use an old joke, Tony.  And it wasn’t even funny the first two times.”

“Did I already say that?”  Once Sam gave him a wise nod, Tony just shrugged it off.  “Well it must’ve been so awesome I forgot it.  But on to more pressing matters - I’m meeting up with Bruce later so pony up if you want anything.”

Sam dug out his wallet while Steve took another bite of his sandwich.  Bruce Banner was a student at LeHigh and one of Tony’s friends.  Not only are they pretty close friends but Bruce also serves as Tony’s supplier.  After Steve had met him, he assumed that Bruce was just a mild-mannered and relaxed guy.  But once Sam told him that Bruce smokes what he grows his demeanor made much more sense.

Not that Steve had a problem with all of his friends lighting up a joint.  He leaned towards the “say no to drugs” philosophy and didn’t feel like chasing that particular high.

No, the highs Steve really liked were the ones he got after acing a test, helping others, or watching the perfect pass land in the waiting hands of a received in the end zone.

Fortunately for Steve the rest of his classes passed in a breeze, along with the homecoming committee meeting (which turned out to be a ridiculous waste of time but Steve just sat and smiled) and he eagerly suited up and jogged out to the football field.

“Captain Rogers!”  Steve lifted his hand in greeting to Coach Phillips, the perpetually grump man who secretly had a heart of gold.

He won’t forget the stern but gentle rebuff he received from the coach after Steve tried out for the football team his freshman year.  “You’re skin and bones,” Coach Phillips had remarked.  “Just seeing you do the warm up is makin’ me cry.”  Steve had bowed his head and was ready to leave with his tail between his legs, but the old man called him back.  “Look, kid.  You got spirit and I care about that.  I’ll let you practice with us, help you bulk up.  And maybe we can get you into a game by the end of the season, deal?”

And Steve worked hard, determined to pull his redshirt off and make it onto the field.  He was always the first to practice and the last to leave – if Coach Phillips didn’t almost drag him off the field Steve would’ve stayed all night.  And true to his word, the coach let Steve punt midway through the season, replacing the dismal and indifferent senior currently holding that position.

The next year, after Steve had finally grown into himself as a man and football player, Coach Phillips put him in as quarterback and allowed Steve to call almost all of the plays himself.

Steve realized how much trust Coach Phillips was putting on him he took that trust and held onto it with the upmost importance.

In the few years that Steve has played under Coach Phillips, he’s seen the old man yell, scream, and grumble at the referees, but he’s also seen him offer the wisest advice and show the compassion and kindness that had really been lacking in Steve’s life.

“You know you’re three minutes late, Rogers.”  Coach Phillips now grumbled as Steve approached him.

“Hey, blame the homecoming committee.  We had to vote on colors for streamers three times.”

The old man frowned at him.  “Why did you have – never mind I don’t care.  Just get out there and throw the damn ball around.”

“Oh what’s wrong?  You don’t wanna hear how we had to choose between sunset colors or a daybreak scheme?”  Steve grinned at the disgruntled look on his face and quickly jogged away.

Steve runs the warm up exercises, taking the team through some easy stretches and leading them up and down the field in running maneuvers.  Once everyone is stretched and ready, Steve moves off to the side to warm up his arm while the special team and defensive team each took the field.  He finally went back on the field with the offense, working on some standard plays and practicing their fast break maneuvers.  Coach Phillips called for the defense and the offense on the field, going through pressure drills, special situations and working on game prep.

Steve worked well with Sam, one of the best running backs on the team, and every pass was caught deftly and cleanly.  Even with Thor Odinson leading the defense, Sam was still able to weave in and out of players to meet his mark in time for Steve’s flawless pass to fall into his hands. 

After the successful practice (determined by the low number of sprints the team had to run), Coach Phillips waved Steve over as he walked off the field.  “I’ve got some footage that I want you to take a look at.”

Steve thought for a second, holding his helmet in his hands.  “I can come down to your office tomorrow during lunch.  I have my humanitarian club meeting afterschool that I can’t miss.”

Coach Phillips nodded.  “That’ll work.  Bring Wilson, he could do with some extra guidance.”

Steve laughed and his coach cracked a small smile.  “Alright I gotta head out.  Going down to LeHigh to tutor some kids.”

“Has anyone told you that you take on too much?” Coach Phillips asked Steve.  “You’re gonna run yourself ragged if you don’t get a second to breathe.  You get enough sleep at night?”

Steve just smiled good-naturedly.  “Yeah I’m good.  Plus it’ll look good on my college application.”

Coach Phillips gave him a calculating look while Steve gave him a pleasant look back.  This wasn’t the first time his coach mentioned that he worked too hard, but Steve honestly didn’t mind how much he had on his plate.  It made his parents happy, which in turned made him happy.

“Alright,” Coach Phillips relented.  “But the second you show any strain I’m benching you, got it?”

Steve nodded and saluted before walking away.  He made a quick beeline for his car, checking his phone and sighing happily when he was ahead of schedule.  He took a moment to breathe while he closed his eyes. 

Any free moment that Steve has, whether he’s in the shower, eating dinner alone or falling asleep, he takes the time to think about his true passion – painting.  The gentle brushstrokes on fresh canvas, the mesmerizing swirling of colors being blended, or the intoxicating smell -

_Ping!  Ping!  Ping!_

Looking down at his phone Steve saw the friendly reminder for his tutoring session encrypted into his phone by Maria.

Marveling at the skills and talents of that woman, Steve embraces his content while pulling out of the parking lot.  He ponders on giving Maria a gift basket on his drive over, always impressed at how well she can keep his life together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world could always use another High School fic, so here we go! I plan to upload chapters every Friday, and if I know I'll be late on posting I'll let y'all know!
> 
> Fic title is from the song "Always In My Head" by Coldplay, which also happens to be the song for the fic, listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_fdrHVO9wBA)!!
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here](http://peglegmeglikeskegs.tumblr.com/), I'm not as active on there as I'd like to be but I'm always looking for new friends to follow!


	2. Chapter 2

Steve pulled into the nearly empty parking lot back behind LeHigh High School.  Every time he comes to the school he feels bad, knowing that the ridiculous school name gives the students and staff a bad rap.  Steve will explain to anyone who’ll listen that it’s named after a military base established in the 1940s but everyone would rather think the school’s founder was dumb enough to call it LeHigh.

Thus creating the label that LeHigh students are just as dumb, or that LeHigh students like to get really high, blah blah blah.

Steve knows for a fact that not all of the students here are idiots.  And as he walks into the library he sees one shining example of an exemplary student standing at the library doors.

Clint Barton is the LeHigh version of Steve; smart, generous and very busy.  He is the liaison whenever S.H.I.E.L.D. and LeHigh get together for any event.  Food drives, study groups, field trips - Clint is the mastermind planning it all while holding the highest GPA for his class.

Despite Steve and Clint practically being twins, there were a few key differences between the pair.  One being their differing educations, the other was Clint’s tendency to constantly be high.  It’s almost comical how obviously high Clint can be, and Steve wonders how the faculty doesn’t notice it.  But like with Tony and Sam, Steve doesn’t have a problem with Clint’s method to achieve a chill attitude.  In fact Steve likes Clint’s easy going and extremely friendly disposition – he’s always asking how Steve is, how his family is, how his friends are, and on and on.  It wasn’t hard for Steve and Clint to become close, seeing how often they collaborated on volunteer programs.  But as time went along the pair became even friendlier as they began to hang out at parties on the weekends or chill out when they could.

Well their definition of “chilling out” includes Clint, Bruce, Sam and Tony smoking while Steve would sit and watch the clouds.

As Steve approached the library Clint gave him a lazy smile and waved his hand in greeting.  “Rogers, how’s it hanging?”

“Hey Clint.  How’ve you been?”

“Oh you know, just chillin.”  Clint’s smile remains in place as he speaks, his red eyes a dead giveaway to his buzzed state of mind.

Steve snorted in response.  “I don’t understand _how_ you have time to chill.  I’ve been working nonstop on my college applications and admission essays, along with school, football and any other shit you rope me into.”

Clint laughed, even though Steve didn’t say anything really funny.  “Oh Steve, you’re always looking for things to boost your résumé.  And furthermore I always find time to chill.”

“Alright I’ll take your word for it.  How’s Natasha?”

Clint’s easy smile turned dopey as he paused to think about his girlfriend. “She’s great.  She’s at the studio right now gearing up for an audition in NYC next month.  She’s doing that thing where she yells and snaps at me for no reason, she’s so great.”

Steve nods, understanding Natasha Romanov’s deadly yet fiery attitude (even if he doesn’t comprehend Clint’s feelings towards it.)  He met the redhead through Clint and they instantly bonded.  Besides Natasha usually being the only other person not high as a kite, Steve and her get together to discuss their shared love and appreciation for the arts.  While he prefers the blank canvases and acrylic paints Natasha seeks solace in the ballet studio she’s attended since she was four years old.

And Natasha stayed with it, even after most of her ~~friends~~ (“inferiors,” Steve can hear Natasha correcting him in his head) quit.  She pushed herself and trained hard – her feet are permanently bruised and battered and she has dealt with harsh critics every day since she was young.  But Natasha is graceful and enthralling on stage and Steve is constantly mesmerized by her flowing and elegant movements.  She’d been offered to train at prestigious dance academies across the country and even a few around the world.  But she ultimately decided to stay put and finish high school first (much to Clint’s relief.)

And Steve knows that she could receive hundreds of offers, but if The Julliard School isn’t one of them she won’t spare a second glance.  One of the most difficult schools to get into, their dance program is considered to be one of the best in the United States and Natasha will settle for no less.  Her being able to land an audition proves her own dance ability, and her ruthless and constant training shows her dedication.

“That’s gotta be stressful for her,” Steve says to Clint now.  He receives a slow nod in return.  “Clint how high are you right now?”

Clint takes a second to ponder his question, starting at Steve intently.  “Yes.”

Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes and decided to gesture into the library instead.  “Should I set up anywhere then?”

Clint gave Steve another slow nod but also cleared his throat.  “Yeah, I’ve got a spot set up in the front but feel free to grab any table.  It’s the first night of this thing so we’re just gonna see how it plays out.  If you have any questions let me know.”

“Thanks Clint.”  Clint gave him a small salute that Steve returned with a grin before retreating into the library.  As he walked in he saw a few more people spreading their books out and some students already getting help.  Steve weaved through the clusters of LeHigh students to find an empty table.

He was well aware of the eyes watching his every move.  Whether those stares were friendly or not, Steve learned long ago to ignore them and focus on the task at hand.

With LeHigh being a relatively small school and S.H.I.E.L.D. being even smaller, everyone had a general idea of who was who.  And many people recognized the SteelCorp CEO’s son and quarterback of the elite private high school football team more often than not.

Sure Steve knew playing on the football team would create some tension with surrounding schools and earn him a few glares.  But he couldn’t help the glowers that stemmed from the fact that his father was the boss of many LeHigh students’ parents and that some of the decisions his father made as CEO may be unpopular.  Joseph Rogers made unpopular decisions frequently and on multiple occasions the children of SteelCorp employees took their frustration out on Steve.  They might not do anything more than give him unfriendly looks and the cold shoulder but Steve thought it was rather unfair.

But throw that in with the fact that Steve’s family was very well off and didn’t have the financial troubles many LeHigh families faced and Steve could understand the antagonistic frowns practically burning a hole in his backpack.

Steve took comfort in the friendships he made with Clint, Natasha and even Bruce.  Rare it was that a LeHigh student would give Steve the time of day and try to get to know him more than a snooty student from SHIELD and an even brattier offspring of a vile and wicked man.

Well, maybe not all the students of LeHigh viewed Steve in this negative light.  But he could definitely do without the overly friendly (and borderline leering) smiles from a majority of the LeHigh female population.  Not only did the longing stares and giggling whispers make Steve uncomfortable but they also made him feel bad for their pining.

Steve had finally helped a girl with her chemistry homework (for the third time that night) when he caught a few moments to himself.  He checked his watched and was pleased to see it was 7:15 – only fifteen more minutes of dodging dirty looks and fending off uncomfortable advances.

He took the few precious seconds alone to review his notes but a loud thump and slight trembling to the table broke him from his concentration.  Sitting across from Steve was a boy his age with black hair unkempt around his face.  He wore a White Stripes band tee under his flannel, skinny jeans and a smirk on his face. 

The flannel and smirk were at least matching everyone else, but the rest of his ensemble was a stark contrast to the John Deere t-shirts, camo hats and work boots that the rest of the LeHigh student donned.

As well as the dirty combat boots on his feet, which were now propped on the table - the mud caking the soles of them dangled dangerously close to Steve’s meticulously written Latin notes.

Steve zeroed in on a clump of dirt, not quite sure how to feel about it.  He knows he should probably be irritated from the rude stranger’s attempt to ruin his notes.  But he already had them scanned with another copy backed up to his computer at home curtesy of Maria.

On the other hand, this stranger had skipped the formalities and apparently forgotten how to approach people; he didn’t try to politely ask for help or exchange any pleasantries.  No he just sat down, banged his feet on the counter and looked at Steve expectantly with grey-blue eyes.

Very piercing grey-blue eyes.  Steve couldn’t help but stare back into those eyes, avidly cataloging the color as one he’s never seen before. The grey and blue don’t just swirl or blend together.  No, the grey in his eyes is almost overpowering – it reminds Steve of cold winter mornings, icy wind blowing into his face, and the slow death of existence around him.  But the blue just manages to slide in and with it brings the life of winter.  How the snow will blanket the landscape, leaving a fresh and blank canvas to enjoy.  And even though everything is dead there’s a certain serene stillness that creates a bittersweet feeling in Steve’s heart that he can’t quite explain.  It’s everything that is beautiful about the season that tries its hardest to remind you why it’s dreadful, captured in two human irises. 

Having an artist’s mind Steve can usually see the subtle differences in life that everyone else misses out on.  But even if he describes a clear sky as a robin-blue instead of just blue or notes the differences in magenta and fuchsia, Steve has never found so much from looking into ones stranger’s eyes. 

“Hey buddy, you okay?”

Steve dazedly shook his head to clear his thoughts.  The stranger’s eyes were now giving him an appraising look.

Steve hasn’t even said one word to the guy and he already made a fool of himself.  How embarrassing.

Steve shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.  “Yeah sorry.  I got distracted.”

“I tend to have that effect on people.”  The stranger flipped his hair back and gave Steve a flirty smirk.

Okay, so maybe Steve didn’t scare him off.  Yet.

Trying to play it cool, he smirked and shook his head.  “Is there any help you need?”

“Oh yes, and I think you can help.  In more ways than one.”  The stranger looked Steve over appreciatively, which caused him to turn red.

“You clearly don’t need any help objectifying me.”  Steve meant for the words to sound fun and playful but cringed when they came out harsh.  His flirting technique has been described as “a tad abrasive” and “downright rude” by Sam and Tony respectfully.

But the stranger’s smiled widened and he held his hands up.  “My mistake.  I could actually use some help with, uh, math.”

“Math.”  Steve replied skeptically.  “What kind of math?”

“Oh you know all those numbers are just so confusing.”  The stranger tilted his head and sighed despondently, causing Steve to roll his eyes again.  “It’s difficult when the numbers get bigger and bigger, but when letters are added?”  He gave another hopeless sigh.  “Then it just gets cruel.”

“Well,” Steve started.  He tried not to smile at the stranger’s obvious (and possibly overly dramatic) distress.  “They’re correct term for those letters is variables.  And they are actually quite useful.  First they let us write formulas that we use.  Like how the area for any rectangle is length multiplied by width, or A = lw.  That formula is used to find the area of every single rectangle, even if the numbers of the length and width change.  Another use of variables is for finding out what the value of something is.  Going back to the area of rectangle, let’s say that we know the length and the area but we need to find the width.  We plug in the values we know and solve for the missing piece.”

Steve had drawn his explanation and even a nice rectangle with a simple example out on the paper but when he looked up the stranger’s eyes were roaming around the library.  Steve set his pencil down and put his paper away.

“Well it looks like you don’t really need any help.”  He said derisively, which caused the stranger to look back.

“No I do.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Really,” Steve watched with doubtful eyes as the guy placed a hand over his heart.  “I don’t understand much about integrations and their use in society.”

Steve narrowed his eyes as he contemplated the request.  But the stranger only looked honest and sincere so Steve gave in.

“Well, integration is a way of adding slices to find the whole.  It’s used to find areas, volumes, and central points.  Electrical engineers and architects use it all the time.  It’s sometimes referred to as-”

“The anti-derivative.”

Steve raised his eyebrows at the blurted interruption and watched as the stranger looked sheepish.  “Look if you were going to go all the way back, there was no way I could just sit and listen.”

Steve leaned back in his seat.  “Ahhh, so you like to deliberately waste my time.”  Yet again he minced the delivery of the words, but he couldn’t help but feel annoyed.

But the stranger gave Steve another confident smile and ran his hand through his long hair. “Every second I get to talk to someone like you isn’t wasted.”  He winked, sending involuntary shivers down Steve’s spine.

He just shook his head, the slight irritation already ebbing away.  Steve had to admit that the guy had game.  And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to spend more time with the handsome stranger.  But Steve had other, more pressing things to focus on, if his schedule programmed into his phone by Maria was anything to go by.

“Well this has certainly been an…illuminating conversation.”  Steve started, trying to not sound too depressed.  “But if you don’t have any _real_ questions-”

“Okay wait.”  The stranger slid his boots off the table and leaned forward.  His smile was back, albeit a tad more rueful.  “I’m sorry if I was a little too forward.”

Steve shook his head.  “No it’s not that.  I just don’t want Clint to think I’m here to socialize.”

The stranger snorted.  “Please, Barton’s probably thinking about why dogs can’t make their own pizza.”

Steve laughed.  “So you know Clint?”

“Yeah.  I’ve been friends with his girlfriend my whole life.”

“Natasha?”

The stranger nodded.  “Yeah – scary redhead, crazy good at dancing?”

“Yeah!”  Steve returned a nod enthusiastically.  He smiled back, unable to reign in his eagerness.  “My name’s Steve.”

“James.  But call me Bucky.”  He held his hand to Steve.

“That’s a unique nickname.”  Steve noted as he shook the hand.  His hand was warm and calloused, his grip frim and gentle.

“Yeah, it’s from my middle name.  Buchanan, like the president.”

“Oh neat.  President James Buchanan, 15th President.  He served right before the Civil War.”

Bucky gave Steve an excited look, his eyes glittering.  “Wait, do you know a lot about American History?”

“Yeah, I wrote and defended my Junior Dissertation on the lingering effects of World War II in today’s modern society.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.  “Okay I’m not gonna mock you for being a nerd because I have a paper due in a month about US relations with other countries before and after WWII.  I have no idea where to start with it and it’s worth a quarter of my grade for the class.”

“Well I can come back tomorrow and help you with some thesis ideas.”

Bucky gave Steve a blank look.  “Thesis?”

Steve made a disbelieving sound.  “Do they teach anything in this school?”

“Yeah, how not to be a nerd.”

Steve made a face at Bucky, which only caused the other boy to grin.

Steve’s phone pinged three times and he looked down to read a message from Maria.

_Dinner is in five, you better be on your way home._

“Is that your girlfriend?”

Bucky’s teasing voice made Steve look up and he was met with a mocking expression.

“Ah no.”  Steve huffed.  “I mean, if I had a girlfriend she’d be in for a rude surprise once she found out I was gay.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled and his smile set Steve’s skin on fire.  “Oh well that’s _fascinating_.”  He gave Steve another sultry wink.

Swoon.

But before Steve could even think of a response Bucky stood.  “I truly hate to cut this short, but I believe Clint and I have an important engagement.”

Steve nodded knowingly and also stood.  “Yeah, that sounds _super_ important.”  Bucky gave Steve another sheepish smile and hid behind his hair.  “But I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You couldn’t keep me away.”  With a final wink Bucky turned and walked away. 

Steve stood in a happy stupor, unable to keep his eyes off of Bucky’s retreating figure.  He watched Bucky weave through the few remaining students and up to Clint.

Steve forced himself to turn away and gathered his books.  He left the library with a strange but happy feeling, and it wasn’t until he returned home that he what he was feeling was a small sense of liberty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter!!! Thanks for the love from Chapter One! :)


	3. Chapter 3

Steve returned to his Wednesday routine without hesitation, but he felt the added anticipation of seeing Bucky again.  As the day dragged slower than normal, he felt slightly impatient as his classes and meetings went by.

He kept his head during practice, not willing to run the risk of running extra sprints just because he couldn’t wait to see a boy he met yesterday.

Fortunately he was pulling into LeHigh sooner rather than later and Steve had to tell himself to play it cool.

He gave Clint a quick nod as he walked in, not wanting to disturb the study session Clint was currently engaged in.  He returned to the same table he sat at yesterday and quickly unpacked.  He was sure to bring his books and notes focused on WWII era history.  Steve almost brought in a copy of his dissertation but thought it might be a tad excessive.

A thump on his desk made him look up eagerly but his mood dripped when the interruption wasn’t Bucky.  To Steve’s dismay it was one of the giggly and ogling girls he helped yesterday.

“Hi.” She said, her breathy voice grating Steve.

“Oh hello,” he replied somewhat dully.  “Do you need chemistry help again?”

The girl giggled again and Steve resisted the urge to bang his head on the table.  He reached down to his bag to pull out his textbook.  When he straightened up the girl was gone, replaced by a smirking Bucky.

“Whoa, you just appeared out of nowhere.”  Steve exclaimed after his heart beat slowed down.

Bucky’s smirk grew and he shrugged.  “I’m secretly an assassin, trained to take you out without fuss.  My training has led up to this very moment.”

He whipped a pen at Steve’s head, which Steve quickly deflected.  Bucky gave him an impressed look and it was Steve’s turn to shrug.

“Karate is good for hand-eye coordination.  My dad put me through lessons when I was younger.”

“Well it was a good idea.”  Bucky complimented.  He sounded awed and Steve ducked his head.

“Um, thanks.”  He cleared his throat and looked back up.  “So do you have all of your materials for your paper?”

Bucky nodded, reaching down into his bag to pull out a folder.  Steve watched the motion with his eyes, and his eyes trailed down Bucky’s legs.  The jeans were skin-tight against Bucky’s legs and Steve was fixated on his calves when Bucky cleared his throat.

Steve jumped, quickly looking back to the other boy.  Bucky just gave him a sly smile and raised his eyebrows, which caused Steve to turn bright pink.

“I thought we were working on History, not Anatomy.”  Bucky remarked as he set his folder on the desk.  His confident tone and teasing grin made Steve’s face flush from pink to red.

Jesus, Steve needed to get his act together.  It’s not like he’s a blushing virgin…oh wait never mind. 

Nevertheless Steve realized he had to contribute to the give and take if he wanted even a chance with Bucky.  And Steve wanted much more than that.

In his best Tony Stark attempt (which he will forever deny using Tony as a source for flirting), Steve lowers his voice and purrs “Well I can help you with it later, if you’re lucky.” 

In the short time it takes Bucky to react to his words, Steve inwardly cringes and mentally bangs his head against the wall and wishes for the floor to swallow him whole.  He fearfully wonders who he thinks he is and questions why in the world did he think that would work. 

But Bucky eyes narrow mischievously and, to Steve’s amazement, he smiles darkly.  “I’ll hold you to that,” Bucky replies in an equally low voice, the implication making Steve’s heart pound with anticipation. 

Bucky gives him a quick wink and opens his folder, pulling out a single sheet of paper.  Steve’s head was still buzzing as he tried to comprehend that his cheesy pick-up line really worked.  He wondered if this was how Tony felt all the time and quickly shoved that thought away.

“Alright,” Steve spoke up in his normal voice.  “Let’s see what we’re working with.”  He took the sheet offered by Bucky and quickly scanned the prompt.  Apparently Bucky is required to write a three page paper explaining the relationship between the United States and one other state before, during and after World War Two.  Steve silently scoffed at the mediocre grading scale in which Bucky would be graded on and the paper’s actual simplicity.

“Okay, this doesn’t seem that hard.”  Steve started.  He grabbed his own notes and began looking through the pages.  “Do you have any idea of what country you might want to focus on?”

Bucky just shrugged.  “Ehhh, my guess would be Germany?  Like, they were the biggest bad guys during the war right?”

“Well you’re not wrong.”  Steve replied, smiling at Bucky’s less than eloquent phrasing.  “But if you want to write a really interesting paper, maybe you should look at the relationship between the US and Soviet Union.”

When Bucky cocked his head to the side (and looking absolutely adorable in the process) Steve continued.  “The US and Soviet Union fought on the same side of the war.  But their relationship was strained, and President Roosevelt wasn’t too keen on siding with them; he said he would ‘hold hands with the devil’ if necessary.”

“Huh.” Was all Bucky could say.  Bucky stared into Steve’s face so intently that Steve was afraid he had grown an extra nose or eye.

But eventually Bucky just smiled.  “You know it might not be a bad idea to write about the Soviet Union, maybe I can ask my grandpa about it.  He was born and raised in Moscow before coming to America.”

“Really?”  Steve asked, extremely interested.  “That’s amazing, I actually interviewed Natasha’s grandfather last year for my dissertation, and he was also born in Moscow and emigrated here.”

Bucky laughed a little.  “Yeah, funny story about that.  Our grandpas actually knew each other, they were friends growing up.”

Steve was pretty sure his jaw actually dropped.  “No way, that is amazing!  Jesus, what are the odds of that!”

Bucky laughed again, nodding.  “I know right.  So when my dad was younger, my grandpa moved him and my grandma here, because Natasha’s grandpa had settled here.  And our dads grew up and became friends – they both went to LeHigh too.”

“No kidding,” Steve said in awe.  “Have you always gone to LeHigh?”

Bucky shook his head.  “No, when I was five we moved because my dad was promoted to a plant manager.  But he lost that job last year so we came back.  But we would always come back over the summer to visit Natasha’s family.  I’ve known that girl since I was a baby.  I’m pretty sure there are pictures of us in diapers.”

Steve laughed loudly, causing other people to turn around and glare.  Bucky snickered and the angry stares from everyone only made Steve laugh harder.  But Steve calmed down enough before Clint had to wander over.

Once Steve had finally caught his breath he looked back to Bucky’s smiling and carefree face.  “Wow Bucky that is pretty cool.  Well not the part about your dad losing his job, that must’ve sucked.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded.  “The jerkoff who bought the plant my dad managed promised to rehire everyone but instead brought in his own guys.”

Steve didn’t say anything, a nasty feeling forming in his gut.  He knew that his father had similar business techniques, but Steve was 99% sure that his dad couldn’t be responsible for Bucky’s father losing his job.

Okay, maybe 98% sure.

Eager to change the subject, Steve pulled out his textbook.  “We should get working on your paper, we can probably get a thesis done tonight, maybe even find some sources for you to use if no one else needs help from me.”

“Oh, people won’t come and bother you while I’m sitting right here.”  Bucky remarked.  Steve looked up to see the boy looking around the library and smirking.

“Why’s that?”  Steve asked politely.  He couldn’t help but be intrigued by Bucky’s words.

“Let’s just say I have a reputation in this school, yeah?”

“How can you already have a reputation if you’re a new student?”

Bucky looked back with an expression Steve would classify as exasperated kindness.  “Oh you poor naïve boy.  It’s a small school in an even smaller town – word travels fast.”

Confusion and curiosity burned Steve’s brain but before he could ask another question Bucky looked down at his own textbook and began to read.  The curiosity and confusion never went away during the hour long session but Steve’s affection for Bucky increased as he watched Bucky react to the tumultuous relation between the United States and the Soviet Union during World War II.  Sometimes his eyebrows would shoot up in surprise or he would gape at the book, disbelief masking his face.  Other times Steve could hear him mutter small noises of incredulity at a surprising fact or murmur a quiet ‘oh that’s perfect’ if he found a useful piece of information.

Of course for Steve the best thing Bucky would do was paying rapt attention to Steve while he discussed a deal or explained the actions of a country’s military.  His glacial eyes would never waver and he would watch so fixedly, drinking in every word Steve had to say.

“Wow, you really know your stuff.”  Bucky remarked appreciatively as Steve finished explaining how the relationship between the two powerful countries deteriorated after the war.

Steve flushed, pleased with the praise but tried to suppress it.  “Thanks, my dad was really into the history stuff and it was something we bonded over while I was younger.”

Bucky snorted.  “Of course someone as smart as you would _love_ history.”

Steve half smiled at Bucky’s teasing tone when in reality learning about the past was really the only time he would get to spend with his father.  “Yeah,” he said instead.  “He would like to watch the really old documentaries about the war on the History Channel.”

“What else does he like?”  Bucky asked as he piled his things into his bag.

“Not much.  He’s…always busy.”  Steve phrased delicately. 

Bucky nodded knowingly.  “I feel ya, when my dad was the plant manager he would work six days a week, ten hours a day.  It was insane.”

“Oh god, yeah.”  Steve nodded in agreement.  “Especially since my father’s the CEO of SteelCorp.  He’s gone almost every weekend visiting a plant or -”

“Scouting a new location to buy and screw over all of the people working there?”  Bucky asked in a low voice.  Not the same low and flirty voice from before, but something much more sinister.

“Um.”  The knot in Steve’s stomach returned and he had a bad feeling he knew where this was going.

“I didn’t know you were _the_ Steve Rogers, son of Joseph Rogers.”

Steve stayed silent, not wanting to look into Bucky’s cold and unforgiving face.  His eyes were now giving Steve the icy stare akin to the ones he receives from other LeHigh students, but it looks much worse coming from Bucky.

“Your dad is a lying, self-absorbed asshole.”  Bucky spat out.  He stuffed the rest of his belongings in his bag and zipped it up, the rage fueling his actions.

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”  Steve shot back, finally fed up with the unfair treatment he’s subjected to just because of his name.  Maybe now his chance of finding another friend has been ruined due to something he can’t help, but Steve is done with it.  Done with the angry glares, done with the nasty whispers, and done with taking crap for something his father has done. 

Before Steve can launch into his tirade about being put on trial for a crime he hasn’t committed Bucky angrily stands from the table, shoulders his backpack and stalks away.  He casts a menacing and loathing scowl over his shoulder, which packs more of a punch than his words did.

Steve sighs, his mood quickly descending.  He quietly but efficiently packs his own things, aware of the quick glances in his direction and words surely about the little spectacle that just transpired.  He heads for the library exit, knowing that he has another ten minutes to tutor but knowing he is unable to muster the strength and energy to help anyone else tonight.

Clint is standing by the door giving him a sympathetic look.  “Rough time?”  He asks as Steve shuffles forward.

“It was going great,” Steve started grumpily.  “We got along great yesterday and today seemed like it would be the same, or even better.”

“Yeah, you two were getting real cozy.”  Clint said, a sly tone creeping into his voice.

“But of course he found out who my dad was, and apparently his dad worked at a plant that my dad’s company bought out and put him out of a job.”

“Well you know that’s not your fault right?”

Steve sighed at Clint’s question.  He _knows_ he’s not at fault, and he certainly shouldn’t be subjected to the harsh words and bad attitude that everyone and now Bucky gives him.  And yet he still feels guilty when he thinks about the hundreds of workers out of a jobs, maybe with families who depend on that income or bills that have to be paid or else.  And yeah, Steve’s dad has the same responsibilities as they do, but Steve knows his family doesn’t face the same hardships as other families.

“Steve I can tell that you won’t feel better unless you talk to him, in more ways than one.”

Steve glares at Clint’s waggling eyebrows.  “Clint that’s the last thing on my mind right now.”

“Ahh, but you _are_ thinking about it aren’t you?”  Steve purses his lips at Clint’s smug grin and doesn’t reply.  “I’m having a party in the barn on Saturday.  My dad is out of town and my brother is buying me a keg, bring your crew and we’ll make it a real party.”

Steve nods, knowing that Tony and Sam were looking for a party this weekend.  “Sharon is visiting this weekend, can I bring her along?”

“Of course!  She can experience a real American hoe-down!”

Steve rolled his eyes at Clint.  “You do know she was born in Virginia right?  She just lives with her Aunt Peggy in England.”

Clint nods sagely.  “Of course, I do remember.”

“No you don’t.”  Steve snorts and Clint bursts out laughing.  Steve gives him a wave goodbye, his spirits slightly lifted after the debacle from earlier. 

He opens his car door and starts to shoot a text off to Maria when he receives a text from Natasha.

It makes sense that Clint would text Natasha after Bucky left the library upset.  She would probably be the best one to calm him down.  But Steve was not looking forward to the third degree from her.

> _ Natasha _
> 
> _Sorry, my friend is a melodramatic freak_
> 
> _He_ will _be apologizing_

 

Oh.  Well that was an unexpected surprise.  Steve sat silently, contemplating what to say back.

> _I still feel bad._
> 
> _ Natasha _
> 
> _His dad found a new job and his family is doing just fine_
> 
> _He’s just a drama queen_
> 
> _Thanks Nat._
> 
> _ Natasha _
> 
> _He’s a good friend when he’s not being a crazy asshole_
> 
> _I know he would appreciate a second chance_

 

Steve bit his lip, second guessing his next move.  But just thinking about Bucky’s eyes and the warm feeling he gave Steve encouraged him to send another text.

> _Got any advice on how to talk to him?_
> 
> _ Natasha _
> 
> _Don’t feed into the crazy_

 

Her advice came in without a beat and Steve couldn’t help but give a small grin.  He went to set his phone down to drive home when another text came through.

> _ Natasha _
> 
> _And don’t break his heart_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! Thanks to everyone who has left comments or gave kudos or bookmarked this fic so far! It really means a lot that people are enjoying the story I'm writing! You guys are all great, and don't believe anyone who tells you different!


	4. Chapter 4

_Steve is swimming._

_The water moves as he cuts through the waves and swims in countless circles.  But he’s confused, because it’s the middle of winter and the pool at his house isn’t the current grey-blue color it is now._

_Nevertheless he continues to swim.  The water should be freezing cold but it’s nice and pleasantly warm.  His main concern is finding what he needs to find.  He may not know what exactly it is, but he_ has _to find it._

_Steve’s frustration builds as he swims, realizing that he won’t find anything in his small and enclosed pool.  Soon enough he finds himself in the ocean, the waves gently caressing his face.  A new feeling of happiness of hope runs through him and he thinks that maybe he’ll finally find what he’s looking for._

Steve blinks awake, his 5AM alarm gently welcoming him into consciousness.  He’s lying in bed, dry as a bone.  He stills for a moment, attempting to hold onto any part of the dream he can remember.  It was certainly the most vivid one he’s had in years but he doesn’t remember anything remarkable happening.

 _Just a dumb dream_ , he affirms.  _Get it out of your head_.

Steve does this rather forcefully, but his mind wanders to Bucky unfortunately.  While Steve wouldn’t mind having to daydream about Bucky’s eyes, he knows he’ll remember the coldness that resonated within them and the firm sneer etched on his face.

Steve vows to stop thinking about his strange dream and Bucky, and makes his way downstairs to begin his day.

His promise lasts a good eight minutes.

Steve swirls the sugar and creamer into his coffee and thinks of the water swirling around him in his dream.  As he jogs through the grounds surrounding his house he remembers the easy-going smile on Bucky’s face.  And during his sunrise meditation, the time when he really needs to clear his head, he realizes the color of the water he swam in matched Bucky’s eye color.

Steve remains trapped in an internal battle throughout the day.  His mind will wander to either his dream or Bucky, then furiously chastise himself until he promises not to think those thoughts again, which he does minutes later.  Steve wasn’t keeping track but it’s safe to say he went through this cycle hundreds of times.

Neither of his parents mentions his subdued attitude, both preoccupied with Peggy’s arrival later today.  Steve had perked up slightly at the reminder, truly ready to see his best friend from across the pond.

At school none of his teachers said anything either, all focused on producing excellence and success.  Steve appreciated the constant lecturing in his classes – he was able to push his thoughts aside and focus on his studies.

Only Tony and Sam noticed the shift in Steve’s demeanor.  They demanded answers at lunch, not giving Steve the chance to breath.

“What’s up your butt?”  Tony asks, his mocking tone showing no hints of concern.

“Yeah Steve, you’ve been pretty down all day.  Is anything wrong?”  Sam asked in a much gentler and serious voice.

Steve put down his sandwich and sat across from his friends.  “What do you mean?”

“You look like someone pissed in your cereal.”  Tony supplied happily. 

Sam shot Tony a dark look.  “What Tony means is that you seem more distant and gloomier than normal.”

“Is this about the new boy-toy you met at LeHigh?” Tony asked loftily.

Steve whipped his head to him, watching as Tony cleaned his rose-tinted sunglasses.  “How do you know?”

Tony gave Steve a classic eye roll and went back to his work.  “Two small schools in the same town – there isn’t much that I don’t know about Rogers.”

“Wait, a guy?  As in a guy you might be interested in?”  Sam asked Steve captivatedly. 

Steve sighed and nodded.  “There _was_ a guy, keyword _was_.”

“What happened?”  Sam asked.

“Well I met him at the tutoring nights in LeHigh, and we got along really great.  But then he found out who my dad was and of course something my father did screwed over his family.”  Steve smiled bitterly at his sandwich.  “Figures right?  I haven’t even come out to my parents and my father still manages to sabotage my relationships.”

“It’s not just your dad, kiddo.”

Steve turned to glare at Tony, who continued to polish his sunglasses.  “Do you have something you’d like to add Tony?”

“Yeah.”  Tony sat up and looked into Steve’s angry face.  “You’re the innocent girl next door.  Clean as a whistle, perfect grades, involved with every club you can, volunteering on the weekends, you’re just too good.  Bucky Barnes-”

“How do you know his name?”  Steve asked disbelievingly. 

Tony gave Steve another annoyed look.  “I told you – small schools in a small town.”

“Bruce probably told him.” Sam presumed. 

Tony gave the smirking Sam a dirty look before continuing.  “Bucky Barnes is the bad boy.  You guys just come from different worlds and he knows it.  He doesn’t want to try to keep up with you so he’d rather hate you.  Add to the fact that you have a permanent residence in the closet and that makes you a whole cane of worms that Bucky, and everyone else, would not want to deal with.”

“Tony.”  Sam interjected sternly, but his admonishment did nothing to lessen Steve’s fury.

“Speaking of dealing with a can of worms, is that why Pepper Potts won’ go out with you?”  He asked, his voice biting.

Tony’s eyes narrowed slightly but he still smiled.  “What happens between Ms. Potts and myself is none of your business.”

“Oh but you have no problem butting into my business though?” Steve asked, his voice rising.

“Not my fault you can’t keep your mouth shut,” Tony countered.  His sardonic voice only grated Steve’s brains and he clenched his fist on the table.

“No, I just thought that, as a friend, you’d want to know why I was upset!”  Steve was nearly shouting and could see other students look his way in interest.  But he ignored them as he plowed on.  “I don’t know where I could’ve gotten that idea though!”

“Beats me.”

“Enough.”  Sam cut across whatever nasty retort Steve was beginning to say (and he definitely had a response.)

Tony just rolled his eyes and rose from the table.  “Whatever, I have more important things to do than console the crybaby.  Peace out girl scouts.”

Steve scowled at Tony’s back, relived to see him go.  He felt Sam’s eyes on him and snapped.

“Jesus Sam, I’m fine.”

“Of course you are.”  Sam replied.  Anyone else would interpret it as a patronizing reply but Steve knew Sam was trying to put out the flames.  He sighed and felt his shoulders slump.

“Sorry.  I didn’t mean to get upset.”  Steve apologized.

Sam just waved it away.  “I’m not too concerned.  To be fair, I think you touched a nerve with Tony.  You know how long he’s been in love with Pepper.”  Steve just shrugged as he finally dug into his lunch.  The pair sat in silence, Steve reveling in the peace since Tony has left.

“So are you going to talk to him?”  Sam asked after a few minutes.

“Tony?”  Steve snorted.  “No, he’ll get over it.”

“No not Tony.  Bucky.”

The sandwich paused on its way to Steve’s mouth.  He looked over to Sam’s innocent face and shook his head.

“Why not?”  Sam pressed.  When Steve shrugged again Sam leaned forward.  “If this is about your dad…”

“No it’s not.”  Steve mumbled.  He set his sandwich down, his appetite long gone.  “Tony’s right.  I have no chance with Bucky, even if he didn’t despise me and my family.  He’s way out of my league.”

“I bet he doesn’t hate you.”  Sam said reasonably.  “You just need to explain yourself.”

“And say what? ‘Oh hey Bucky.  Your eyes are amazing and I love your sense of humor.  Also you don’t really know me so don’t judge me’?”  Steve scoffed and shook his head.

Sam nodded patiently.  “You should say that – he’s probably going to be at Clint’s party this weekend.”

“Yeah he will.”  Steve noted.  “He’s actually really good friends with Natasha.”  Steve quickly recounted Bucky’s story to Sam.  He also mentioned Natasha’s texts from the previous night and her advice.  After he finished Sam nodded with his eyes wide.

“No shit,” he said.  “That’s so crazy.”

“I know right?”

Sam nodded as he finished his drink.  “She’s right you know.”  He said after he gulped down the last of his water.

“What do you mean?”

“You should try again with Bucky.”

“Why bother?” Steve asked forlornly.  “He hates me.”

“Natasha will talk some sense into him.”  Sam said, his voice so certain that Steve looked up into his face, the calm confidence managing to make Steve’s mouth curve upwards.

“You won’t know until you try anyway.”  Sam added as the bell rang.  Steve stayed silent but smiled again at his confident friend as they left the cafeteria.

Sam’s words as well as Tony’s rattled around Steve’s head.  Paired with his own thoughts and insecurities, he sat in his classes without really listening to the lectures. 

Sam had made strong and sound arguments.  And Steve really wanted to believe him, but Tony’s biting observations were able to sneak their way to the forefront of Steve’s brain.  He was unable to block out the facts that Tony had laid out for him – Steve and Bucky don’t live the same lives.  Bucky is suave, assertive and outgoing.  While Steve is…well, he’s weak, timid and righteous.  Maybe Bucky didn’t realize how pathetic Steve was, but it would only be a matter of time before he realized that Steve is not worth the time or trouble.  Steve sank lower in his uncomfortable chair as the worthlessness made itself comfortable in Steve’s skin.

The awful feeling in Steve’s gut carried him through the remainder of his classes, his after school meeting and all the way to football practice.  Coach Philips clearly noticed Steve’s less-than-stellar mood, seeing how his normally grumpy face was softened ever so slightly.  But to Steve’s relief he didn’t say a word.

The only bright spot on this dreary day was the approaching arrival of Peggy and Sharon.  After practice Steve quickly showered and changed in the locker room, sending a quick wave to Sam and walked out to the front of the school.  His parents (I.E. Maria) had arranged to pick him up and drive straight to the airport to meet their friends from across the pond.

The sleek town car was idling by the curb and Steve didn’t hesitate to step up and let himself in.  Sarah Rogers gave her son a warm smile and offered her cheek while Joseph Rogers ignored Steve in favor to stay on the phone.  After Steve leaned in to peck his mother’s cheek he glanced at his father - taking in the angry gestures and no-nonsense tone of voice, Steve assumed that his father was speaking to either a plant manager or complaining about one of his golf buddies bailing on a game.  Both were important matters to Joseph, clearly much more important than the arrival of his only son.  Steve suppressed the urge to roll his eyes but remained silent.

By the time Joseph had finished his phone call their car had pulled onto the airport tarmac at Charlotte Douglas International Airport.  Another larger car was waiting with Maria standing of to the side.  She held a bouquet in her arms.

Sarah Rogers nudged her son excitedly while he forced a smile back.

“Here.”  Maria said briskly, barely giving Steve time to step out of the car before thrusting the flowers into his hands.  “Their jet is touching down in five minutes.”

“Were you able to secure the private room at Happy’s Place?”  Sarah asked as she stepped out of the car.  Steve extended his hand to help his mother, hold the flowers limply at his side.

“Of course.  Chef Harold was more than happy to have the Rogers and Ms. Carter back for dinner.  He insisted on creating a personalized menu.”

“Excellent.”  Joseph grunted as he exited and stretched.  “Gah, my back is killing me.  I’m definitely not as young as I once was.  Maybe I should join your morning yoga, Steve.”

Steve jolted slightly but plastered a mega-watt smile on his face as he turned to his father.  “Yoga is certainly a great way to stay in shape.”

Joseph returned the smile with one of his one – a charming grin that enhanced his handsome features.  It wasn’t necessarily a warm or fatherly smile, but Steve felt an immediate sense of security blanket him. 

Steve loves his father, and he’s sure that he was loved back.  But there are times that he can’t help but question the level of love he receives.  Was it genuine, or more out of familiar obligation?  If Steve wasn’t his father’s son, would he even like him as a person?

It hurts Steve to think so drastically but he believes he is well-justified in his suspicion.  Joseph is a conquering man and has little time to think of anything else.  Work dominates his life and that is something that Steve has accepted long ago.  But part of Steve wishes that his father would take him in and celebrate his accomplishments, instead of nodding curtly and moving onto the next project or meeting he has to attend.

He’s pretty sure that other sons don’t think of their fathers in this way, and he hates how this string of thoughts is a constant nagging sensation in the back of his mind.  So instead of remaining in these sad and depressing views, Steve chooses to relish these rare and precious moments, where he and his father can share a friendly smile or playful joke without any tension to ruin it.

Ignoring the sudden tightness in his throat Steve opens his mouth to ask if his father is coming to his game on Saturday, but Maria cuts across quickly.

“That’s their jet.”  She points to a sleek and modern plane landing on the far side of the runway.  Joseph nods and steps away from his son without another smile or even a quick look back. 

And just like that the warmth is extinguished and Steve’s left feeling as cold and alone as ever.

Steve swallows to force down the persistent lump in his throat to focus his attention on the jet slowly taxiing its way to their small group.  He was relieved to see that his vision wasn’t obstructed by blurry edges.

The jet finally came to a halt and while an airport employee ran forward to open the door and unlatch the stairs Steve saw Sharon wave through one of the plane windows, a wide smile on her face.

Sharon Carter.  Orphaned at the age of six thanks to a drunk driver but fortunately taken in by her aunt Peggy Carter.  Her home was officially in London she never stayed there long.  She followed Aunt Peggy around the world wherever her military career took them.  Sharon is never privy to the ins and outs of Peggy’s job but she doesn’t really care.  Why should she when she has the chance to explore the beautiful and exciting cities and have the time of her life?

Once the plane door is finally open with the steps leading down, Peggy Carter is the first to exit.

Perfectly set curls, immaculate red lipstick, and a cool yet approachable face – the physical features of Peggy that never waver, and Steve finds himself relaxing just taking in her consistent appearance.  But what most people don’t see is her tenacious and strong-willed personality. Peggy is a woman who should not be overlooked but unfortunately is.  She has proven herself over and over again, and yet people will still ask to speak to her supervisor, “wherever he is.”

Steve has seen her correct those fools with a classy yet no-nonsense retort that will make even the strongest and most powerful person wilt in shame.  In simple terms, she is a boss-ass bitch who gets shit done.

Steve’s pretty sure Sharon got her a mug saying so.

Peggy’s associates (all males, all beneath her) file out behind her with Sharon bringing up the rear.  Her huge grin only grows when her eyes find Steve.  By the time she steps foot on the ground Peggy has greeted Joseph and Sarah warmly and has turned her open arms to Steve.

“Steve you look fantastic.”  Peggy’s voice is like music to Steve’s ears – thrilled but still gentle, with her accent coming in softly.  He moves quickly and wraps his own arms around her, his face immediately pillowed by her soft brown hair.

“Hello Peggy.  It’s been a long time.”

“Oh don’t I know it.”  She pulled away but kept her hands on Steve’s arms and gives him a quick look over.  “You look peaky, have you been eating.”

“Aunt Peggy, if you keep using words like that you can’t get mad when Tony calls you the British Nanny.”  Sharon’s brown eyes peeked over her aunt’s shoulder, glinting mischievously.  “Even if you are right.”

“Oh shut up.”  Steve mumbled, smiling regardless.  He reeled Sharon in and gave her a bone crushing hug.  Her blonde hair was just as soft and Steve took in her florally aroma with a sniff.  “You’re wearing the perfume I bought you.”

Sharon faced him and arched an eyebrow.  “You bought?”

Steve rolled his eyes at her (correct) skepticism and glanced around.  Joseph was busy with Peggy and her subordinates but Sarah was staring straight at Steve expectantly.  Remembering himself Steve stood straighter and handed the bouquet to Sharon.  She accepted them wordlessly but snuck a quick kiss to his cheek.

When they both turned to Steve’s mother, Sarah’s ecstatic expression was contagious enough to put a smile on Steve’s face.

*****

“Does he realize that it’s not funny?”

“Yeah, but he’s a smart ass.”

Sharon laughed and Steve grinned with her.  They were seated next to each other at the table in the private room at Happy’s Place.  Joseph, Peggy and her associates had left the airport in the larger SUV, which left Steve, Sharon, Sarah and Maria to follow behind in the town car.  One awkward ride later, which included Sarah barraging Sharon with questions about her future and practically squealing every time Steve held Sharon’s hand, both vehicles had arrived at the restaurant for a delicious dinner.

Everyone was talking, laughing and enjoying the food.  The wine was flowing freely, but never making its way to the corner where Steve and Sharon sat mainly ignored (much to Sharon’s annoyance.)

“Oh don’t worry, there’ll be plenty to drink this weekend.”  Steve had assured her.  “Tony and Sam made sure to stock up for you.”

Sharon had given him a dazzling smile in return before demanding updates on everyone’s like (i.e. the hot gossip.)  Over dinner Steve dished on their friend’s drama, including the feud between Tony and Justin Hammer and the hilarious fight Sam got in with a freshman name Scott Lang.

“Yes, he does have a nice ass.”  Sharon said after she caught her breath, folding her napkin and placing it on her empty plate.

“Sharon!”  Steve whispered, looking around the table.

“Oh Steve, everyone here is drunk, they’re not listening to us.”  Sharon assured him with a roll of her own eyes.

“No, what I was going to say was that Sam is definitely _not_ my type.”

Steve snorted as Sharon’s eyes bugged out of her head and they both dissolved into loud laughter.  Steve had really missed this about Sharon – anytime the pair would get together they would find something to laugh about and never stop.  Life’s worries and the real responsibilities fade away, and Steve is happy to be in a fake relationship with someone as funny and animated as her.

Sharon finally calmed down again, wiping away a few tears while Steve still giggled.  “You seem different,” she noted happily, her voice rough from the laughter.  “Normally whenever I mention Sam’s sweet behind you panic and practically duck under the table.  What’s up?”

“I don’t know.”  Steve admitted.  “For some reason having to pretend you’re my girlfriend isn’t bothering me like it usually does.”

“Have you met someone?”  Sharon probed.

Steve hesitated, his thoughts quickly directing to Bucky and his brilliant eyes.  But he quickly casts them away, knowing that his chances are lost with him. 

But his hesitation is all of the ammunition Sharon needs and she leans forward with her eyes wide again.  “Oh my god, Steve tell me _everything_.  What’s his name, how did you meet him, what’s his favorite color?”

“Hey, take it easy.”  Steve replied, putting a hand up to stop the flow of questions.  “It’s not even a thing anymore.”

Sharon’s wide eyes narrowed in a second.  “You know I can just ask Sam or Tony and they would be more than happy to give me some answers.”

Steve huffs, knowing full well that Sharon’s threat is true.  He finally relents and moves his head in closer to hers.  “His name is James, but his nickname is Bucky.  I met him at a tutoring session at the local school in town.  We got on really well but of course something my dad did screwed over his family so now he hates me.”

“I highly doubt that.”  Sharon remarks knowingly.  “Is he cute?”

Steve nodded glumly.  “Very.  First time I met him I couldn’t stop staring at his eyes, he probably thought I was a mute idiot.”

Sharon smiled.  “Maybe not mute…”

“Alright alright.”  Steve muttered.  “It doesn’t matter, he hates me.”

Sharon looked at Steve intently before speaking again.  “Steve have we talked about your guilt complex?”

Steve gave Sharon a hard look.  “I do not have a guilt complex.” 

“Yeah, a lot of people don’t realize it until it’s pointed out to them.  But over the years I’ve seen yours as clear as day.  It’s actually quite remarkable.  Literally _anytime_ someone you love and care about is going through a hard time or pissed off, you always assume it’s your fault.  You’ll bend over backwards to make everything easier for them, while simultaneously not caring if it’s inconvenient for you.  And if someone snaps at your for trying to help you immediately apologize even though you didn’t do shit.  I’ve seen it happen with you, with one of your family members in particular.”

Steve remains silent at Sharon’s suggestion, knowing she is referring to his father.  He looks down the table now and sees him laughing at some joke and feels a smile on his lips.  His dad works so hard and Steve knows he has a tough job.

“I hope you’re not smiling because your dad is happy for once and not bogged down by something that you definitely didn’t do.”  Sharon’s dainty tone hits Steve’s ears and he turns to her expectant face.

“Can you read my thoughts or something?”  He asks lightly, ignoring her sad smile.

“Of course, honey.  We’re going to be together, _forever_.”  Steve laughs, truly grateful for his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the next chapter is here! I just have two quick things to address here for a hot second:  
> 1\. I promise, promise, PROMISE that Steve and Sharon are strictly platonic. They are only extremely good friends and that is what they'll be in this fic. If you're looking for a Steve/Sharon fic, this isn't one. I also say this so people will not get upset with me, so please lower your torches and pitchforks!  
> 2\. I have told myself to post chapters every Friday, and while I would love to share everything I have written about this fic I post only once a week so I won't get overwhelmed and behind on my writing, thus creating longer delays for you guys. However, this fic is going to be a long one, and once my school and internship obligations slow down I might be able to post more than once a week. But that won't be for awhile, so in the meantime please enjoy the extremely slow build!
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Find me on tumblr [here](http://peglegmeglikeskegs.tumblr.com/) !


	5. Chapter 5

A short whistle pierces the air and the beefy defensive tackle finally releases Steve’s arm.  He hadn’t been gripping it tight, seeing how the action was downfield.

Close to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s end zone, much to Steve’s delight.

It was Saturday afternoon and Steve’s football team had just started the final quarter of a game they were winning.  He had eagerly thrown himself in the game, desperate to forget the memories from last night’s exhausting dinner party at the Stark’s.  After acting “cute and couple-y” with Sharon (while dodging uncharacteristically harsh looks from Sam) and answering questions about college plans, Steve needed something that wasn’t fake or extremely stressful.

And like a heavy and sweaty defensive tackle running in for the tackler, football came out to save Steve from his demanding life.  At least for a few hours.

“Okay, we’re running America Tango 24.”  Steve said briskly as his team huddled around him.  “Sam, watching for the extra cover on your right – on my mark, ready?”  Steve clapped his hands with his teammates as they broke apart and quickly bustled into formation.

The fans were cheering loudly, insults coming from the opposing fans and encouraging chants from the collective mass of people sitting behind S.H.I.E.L.D.’s bench.  Steve tuned it all out, just as he ignored the sharp sting of a cold gust of wind blowing in his face and the menacing glares from the other team’s players.

For some people, like Tony who currently sat in the stands with Clint and Bruce, this was pure torture.  But Steve loved it – every single part of the game was like a breath of fresh air.  From the high pressure stakes on winning over losing to the formation of plays and watching them unfold perfectly.  Hell even the pre-game nerves that left him quiet and contemplative were a welcoming experience.  _This_ game made sense to him, not the social status game that his family and nearly everyone he knows plays.  And to be able to lose himself in the thoughts and feelings during the game was something Steve didn’t take for granted.

And he was able to keep his mind off a particular LeHigh student with amazing eyes while he played, so it was an even better win for Steve.

“Down, set!”  Steve crouched down, hands ready to take the ball.  A shadow moved behind him and Steve knew Sam was moving himself into position for the play.  “Blue 41, blue 41, hike!”  Steve received the pass off and held the ball for a second before passing it off to Sam so he could barrel his way into the end zone.  Exhilaration quickly set in as Sam quickly made his way through the miniscule gap in players and strolled in for a touchdown.

More cheers erupted from the stands while the team surrounded Sam – some of their bigger teammates were able to life him up while others slapped his helmet appreciatively.  Their sideline erupted with whoops and whistles, nearly everyone celebrating the scoring play.

Except for Coach Phillips.  Steve knew he would be standing stoically while nodding slowly.  He never showed excess emotion, but Steve knew he was satisfied.

Steve could hear Mr. & Mrs. Wilson cheering loudly, Sam’s mother’s piercing whistle distinctive amongst the racket.  And Steve knew his parents were sitting quietly beside them, their celebration much more subdued.  He can almost picture it – the Wilsons stomping and cheering with the rest of the crowd while the Rogers politely clap and maybe smile.  It would be comical if it didn’t make Steve feel a teensy bit sad.

Although now he can count on Peggy and Sharon to make a ruckus.  They take their sports-spectating very seriously, and both women have previously been asked to calm down or leave the stadium (on separate occasions.)

Smiling at those entertaining memories Steve watched as Sam untangled himself from the players and jogged up to Steve with a grin.  Without any warning Sam jumped in the air, his shoulder jutting forward.  And Steve, being the good teammate and friend he is, jumped in the air and met him with his own shoulder.

It was their thing.  It’s not like they’ve had years to perfect the move or anything.

“Nice feet Wilson.”  Steve said as they made their way off the field to let the special team set up to kick for the extra point.

“Thanks, it was a good play.  Did Coach call it or was it your idea?”

Steve smiled as they reached their bench.  “Coach has been letting me call the whole game.”

Sam’s jaw dropped.  “Seriously?  That’s so dope!  Well you’ve been doing an awesome job, we’re up forty points.”

Steve nodded, allowing himself to accept the praise.  When Coach Phillips told him he was going to call the game Steve wanted to back out right away and throw up at the same time.  But after some words of encouragement (“You’re gonna do it Rogers, so suck it up,”) Steve felt somewhat better about taking on an important role.

“Rogers, Wilson – you guys are done.”  Both boys looked up at Coach Phillips suddenly appearing in front of them.  “I’m gonna let the younger Wilson get a feel for quarterback, and Parker’s going in as wide receiver.”

“Yes sir.”  Steve and Sam both nodded under the coach’s stern glare, and they smiled when his face softened.

“You guys did good.  Especially you Rogers, you called a hell of a game.  Get used to it, son.”

Steve nodded in thanks, a tiny smile on his face.  A warm feeling blossomed in his chest – Coach Phillips didn’t give out praise regularly, and it meant a lot to Steve to receive recognition for his hard work.  And he knows it’s a genuine compliment – the coach “isn’t concerned with thinking about everyone’s feelings and that nonsense.”  So Steve felt pretty good sitting on the bench, pride spreading from his head to his toe.

“Yeah, good job _son_.”  Sam’s teasing voice broke into Steve’s thoughts and he looked over to Sam’s playful face.

“Shut up,” he muttered.  Sam’s shit-eating grin widened as they both settled on the bench to watch the remainder of the game.  Steve was impressed with Wade Wilson, the sophomore redshirted quarterback. Even if he was a tad dramatic with some of his slides and dives, he got the job done.  Their team was able to hold onto the enormous lead earned earlier and they easily won the game.

After going through the line to slap the other team’s hands (any maybe rub the victory in their faces) the boys jogged into the locker room to catch the usual post-game chat from Coach Phillips.  He kept his short and sweet, gave a curt “congrats” and dismissed the team until Monday.

“We goin’ out tonight?”  Sam asked as the boys cleaned themselves up. He kept his voice low, even though the loud chatter and laughter coming from their teammates masked their conversation from any potential eavesdroppers.  But any player caught at a party would get an automatic two-game suspension and would have to meet with the Dean of Students.  And that’s not including the punishment and disappointment from Coach Phillips.

“Yeah, we’re gonna show Sharon a good time.”  Steve replied quietly.  He didn’t drink, didn’t smoke and knew that he could still get in trouble for just going party.  But he wasn’t going to let his friends run wild without any sober and mature supervision, and for Steve it was enough of a risk for him.

Sam smiled mischievously.  “Oh I can show her a good time.”  He slammed his locker shut with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Steve closed his own locker quietly and dramatically rolled his eyes.  “Do you think you could back off of my girlfriend?”  He asked mock-annoyed.

Sam punched his shoulder with a smile.  “ _Fake_ girlfriend.”  The emphasis he placed on the first word made Steve chuckle and they left the locker room together in good spirits.

Outside they were met with a small smattering of applause and another loud whistle.  A small group of fans cheered for the two star athletes, much to Steve’s chagrin and Sam’s delight.  The latter boy even gave high fives and fist-bumps while making his way to his parents.

Steve joined Maria and Sharon, both waiting on the fringe of the small gathering.  Sharon’s huge beaming face and Maria’s small smile greeted Steve as he walked up to them, a matching grin on his own face.

“Wow you’re famous.”  Sharon quipped before Steve pulled her in for a hug.  “You played great.”

“I second that.”  Maria said, her no-nonsense voice softened ever so slightly.

“Thanks,” Steve replied, still embarrassed.  He quickly glanced around, searching the crowd milling about. 

Maria noticed what he was looking for and quickly spoke up.  “Your parents had to leave early, but they wanted me pass on a congratulations for winning the game.”

Steve nodded curtly, not surprised at their current absence.  But he still felt the sharp pang of disappointment.  He glimpsed over to Sam standing with his parents – Mr. Wilson had a strong hand on Sam’s shoulder while Mrs. Wilson was clutching her son’s arm tightly.  They both wore matching looks of pride and love for Sam.

Ignoring the sudden wave of sadness and longing, Steve looked back to Sharon and Maria.  They both were giving him sympathetic looks, with Sharon’s looking a tad furious while Maria’s was more reserved.  He quickly shrugged off the disappointment and smiled. 

“It’s no big deal, I’m sure whatever business they have is important.”

Sharon’s face hardened further but she remained silent.  Maria nodded and her face smoothed back to her standard blank professionalism.

“Okay, you both are free to go.”  Her voice was clipped as she regarded her phone, probably reviewing their schedules or plotting ways to ruin Steve’s life.  “Be dressed and presentable tomorrow morning for family brunch at 10AM.”

“Thanks Maria.”  Maria waved at Steve’s dismissal and walked away typing into her phone.  Steve watched her leave, trying not to dwell on the fact that the family’s PA cared to stay for the remainder of his game while his own parents couldn’t stand to remain.  He knew that his father would be angry that Steve didn’t stay in for the whole game, despite it being something out of his control.  And he knew that Joseph wouldn’t care that Steve made all of the calls while he played – it would just be something he should’ve been able to do all along.

“Aunt Peggy is sorry she couldn’t stay.”  Sharon said.  “She told me to tell you that you played wonderfully though.  Truly exquisite.”

“Now _there’s_ some fancy jargon you don’t hear ‘round there woods.”  Tony’s fake country drawl drifted over as he appeared by Sharon’s shoulder.  Clint and Bruce followed behind him, lazy grins on their faces with their eyes glazed over.

“Tony I just _love_ your wit.”  Sharon commented.  “And it wasn’t funny the last time you said it.”

“I’ve said that before?”  Tony asked Bruce in a side-bar.  The dazed boy just shrugged his shoulders slowly.  “Huh, I’m losing my touch.”

Steve scoffed.  “You’re too young to be losing your touch.”  He nodded to Clint and Bruce, who just stared back.  “Have you guys met Sharon?”  Vacant stares were his answer so he made quick introductions that will probably be made again in the future.

“Once Sam is done talking to his parents we can go out for food.  Clint, Bruce are you guys in?”

Bruce, still silent and relaxed, nodded slowly.  But Clint shook his head.  “No I gotta pick up Nat and get things ready for tonight.”

“Okay buddy, see you later.”  Steve waved as Clint saluted before walking away.  Worrying slightly about Clint’s driving ability, Steve turned back into the conversation Sharon was engrossed in with Tony.

“I don’t know what shit I smoked with Clint last time I was here, but it was probably the best I’ve ever had.”

Tony proudly thumped Bruce on the back.  “It’s all thanks to his guy here.  He’s a magician.”

Steve really wished Sam would hurry up with his parents.

“He’s such a mama’s boy.”  Tony snorted after Steve voiced his thoughts.  But his amusement was cut short after Sharon slapped his arm hard.

“Don’t make fun of him,” she snapped.  Bruce burst into laughter as Tony rubbed the sore spot on his arm.  Even Steve managed to crack a smile.

“Tony’s in pain, Bruce is laughing, Sharon looks pissed.”  Sam surmised as he joined their group.  He turned to Steve.  “Sharon hit Tony?”

“You’re a modern-day Sherlock Holmes.”  Tony mumbled darkly and stalked off.  Bruce followed him, still giggling quietly.

“What did he do?”  Sam asked with an amused grin.

“He made fun of you and Sharon didn’t like that.”  Steve recounted.  He was surprised to see Sharon blush and look down at her feet, but not as surprised to see Sam bite his lip and smile.

“Thanks for defending my honor Sharon.”  Sam said earnestly.  The girl just looked back up and gave Sam a dazzling smile in response.

The sickening cute display of affection was enough to wipe the happiness from Steve’s face.  He had some inkling of the possible shared feelings between Sam and Sharon, and the way they practically made heart-eyes to each other only confirmed his suspicions and fears.

Not that he wasn’t happy for them, they were his two best friends and he wanted them happy.  Sharon was just really committed to the “relationship” between her and Steve and was willing to put Steve’s current problems over her own feelings.  And Sam only tried to convince Steve to come clean to his parents about Sharon for Steve’s benefit, not his own.  Their selfless acts made Steve burn with guilt and it worsens when he thinks about the hardship he puts on both of them.  It makes him wonder how they can stand to be his friend.

“Stevie boy, you driving?”  Sam’s question interrupted Steve’s distressing thoughts and he re-focused on his group of friends watching him expectantly.

He put a smile on his face and nodded.  “Of course,” he replied.  Steve was pleased to hear how relaxed he sounded, despite feeling like the exact opposite.  Like his insides were constantly squirming and he felt seconds away from a nervous breakdown.  He smiled wider and followed Sharon and Sam out to his car, listening to their laughter as it soothed his soul.

*****

“There are a shit-ton of fields around here,” Sharon remarked.

Sam laughed loudly, already drunk from the pre-gaming took at Tony’s after their dinner.  Steve lost count of how many shots he took and knew he would have to keep a close eye on him throughout the night.  He also forced a water bottle on him to drink on the drive over.

“Sam have you drunken any of that water I gave you?”  Steve patiently asked him, knowing that the answer would be no.

“The next drink going in my mouth is a shot of Fireball, plain and simple.”  Sam said quickly.  Steve noticed that Sam usually spoke faster when he was drunk, as if he was forcing his thoughts out as swiftly as he could.  It was funny, except when he would speak _all_ of his thoughts and boy did Sam have a lot of thoughts on his mind while inebriated.

Steve had a sneaking suspicion that tonight would be a night of revealing secrets and deep-held truths. But for now he just urged Sam to drink some water before he pulled into Clint’s driveway.  There were already vehicles parked haphazardly on the grass, a large majority of them being old pick-up trucks.  Steve felt very conspicuous as he parked his sleek and clean Jeep Wrangler next to a rusty Ford pick-up.

Hey at least it fit in somewhat better than his other car or his bike.

“Alright gang,” he announced as everyone ambled out of the car.  “The bus will be leaving at 1:30AM, so I will be collecting you at 1:15AM.  Well except you Bruce, you don’t need a ride home right?”

Bruce smiled and shook his head slowly.  Steve was surprised that he was still functioning, given the amount of weed he had smoked at Tony’s house.

“Alright mother dear we _promise_ to behave.  Now if you’ll excuse us, we have some business to attend to.”  Tony shoved Bruce along and stalked off to the barn.  Steve scowled after him but followed behind with Sam and Sharon bringing up the rear.  Steve heard them talking and laughing together but their conversation was drowned out by the music and noises coming from the enormous barn.

A good number of people were standing outside the barn, coolers at their feet and bottles in their hands.  They gave Steve a dirty look, already recognizing him and his friends.  But thankfully they didn’t do anything more.  Steve hopes that nobody tries to approach him with their complaints about his father or their school or even just about him in general.  Usually those people are drunk out of their minds and try to fight him, which never bodes well for the persons involved.

The inside of the barn was brightly lit with even more people standing around and talking.  A small space in the middle was cleared away and a few fun and smashed people were dancing to the country music playing on a speaker set up on the ground.  Steve smiled as he saw Clint being one of those fun and smashed, dancing like a maniac and throwing his arms around.  Steve only had to look around briefly before he saw Natasha standing just off to the side of the clearing, also watching Clint with an annoyed yet affectionate look on her face. 

As if she knew Steve was watching her she looked over and locked eyes with him.  Smiling she weaved into the dancing students, pulled Clint along with her and pointed Steve out to him.  Clint’s face broke into a huge smile as he barreled towards Steve and practically tackled him to the ground.

“Stevie!”  He shouted happily.  “I’m so glad you made it, it’s been _forever_ since I’ve seen you!”

“Clint you came to our football game this afternoon,” Steve reminded him nicely, albeit he hugged him back just a tightly.

“Oh shit, that was today!  Many it seems like ages ago!  Where’s Sam?  I’ve missed him too.”

“He’s right behind me.”

Clint shoved Steve to the side and hug-attacked Sam, who seemed just as thrilled to be seeing Clint.  Sharon shook her head and walked over to Steve.

“Man he is a really happy guy.”  She remarked.

“No he’s just really dumb.”  A knowing voice behind Steve spoke up and Natasha appeared at his side.  “Hello Steve, and hello Sharon.  It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you.”

Sharon nodded to her.  “Hi Natasha, how’re things?”

Natasha gave a half shrug with a half-smile.  “Can’t complain.  Trying to keep an eye on Clint while making sure no one burns down his barn is definitely the highlight of my Saturday night, so yay me.”

Sharon smiled back timidly.  Steve knows that she gets nervous around Natasha and he couldn’t really blame her.  Her tone of voice is borderline sarcastic, and while she is the most sarcastic person Steve knows Natasha isn’t vicious and mean to people that don’t deserve it.  And no matter how many times Steve tries to explain that to Sharon, she still walks on eggshells around the redhead.

“Sharon!  Let’s go play flip cup!”  Sharon turns immediately, a look of relief flashes across her face at Sam’s voice. 

“I’ll be right there!”  She looks back to Natasha and gives her a shy smile before leaving.

“So she’s still scared of me?”  Natasha asks right out of the gate.  When Steve nods silently Natasha just shrugs again.  “I can’t help it, I haven’t done anything to her.”

“I know, I know.”  Steve placates.  “I think she believes that everyone secretly hates her because we have to be in a fake relationship together and she’s scared that you guys will tell her to leave me alone.  Even though that’s not the case!”  Steve quickly adds as Natasha turns a glare to him.  “I’ve explained a million times how that whole thing is my problem and no one is blaming her!”

Natasha’s glower simmers while she appraises Steve, before finally nodding and looking back out to the people dancing and laughing.  They stand next to each other, both comfortable enough to not fill the silence around them.  They both ignore the looks that are directed to Steve, their speculation of why an S.H.I.E.L.D. student would slum at their parties very apparent on the openly hostile faces.

“He’s here, you know.”  Natasha’s words sends Steve’s heart racing but he remains impassive on the outside.

“Who?”  He asks calmly, attempting to mask the excitement coursing through him.

“Don’t play dumb.”  Natasha says flatly, clearly not buying his façade.  “He’s outside, go talk to him.”

Steve ponders for a second, Bucky’s mean glare and hurtful words replaying in his head.  He’s so sure that the other boy doesn’t want to see him again, despite Steve’s desire to look back into those eyes.  But no no, Bucky hates him and his family.  Just because he finally meets a boy that he really likes and thinks liked him back doesn’t mean that Steve can just get another free chance at him.  And Steve isn’t even sure that Bucky likes him back, they were just mindlessly flirting with –

“You’re doing that thing again.”  Natasha interrupts Steve’s flow of thoughts.  “Stop thinking, and just do it.”  She walks away, leaving him standing alone in the crowd.

Just do it.  Yeah, it _sounds_ simple enough.  And Steve would be encouraging any of his friends to go talk to someone that they would like.

But it’s a whole different story when Steve is the hesitant one.

Just do it.  Take a deep breath, and just do it.

Steve’s feet carry him through the crowd, the music thumping in his ears.  It’s like carrying the football through the defense and making it to the end zone.  Ignore the loud noise around him, push through the arms of people trying to pull him back, hold onto the little voice in his head encouraging him to keep going.

And just like that Steve is outside alone.  He almost feels like doing a little celebration dance, finally scoring one for the team.  The weird elation pushes him to search around the barn, looking for Bucky.  It is substantially quieter outside compared to inside the barn, and Steve is thankful for the peace.  He can focus on finding Bucky and setting things right with him.

And when he finally finds him, sitting alone in the grass, Steve realizes that he has no idea what to say to him.  All coherent thought flies away, leaving Steve standing a few feet away and just staring at Bucky. 

The boy’s head is tilted up, looking at the night sky.  Steve himself glances up, startled to see the stars so vibrant against the inky backdrop of space.

“Clear sky tonight.”  Steve jumps again, rapidly turning to the boy sitting in the field.  Bucky’s head was still skyward and Steve was beginning to doubt he said anything until he spoke up again.  “You should come join me.”

A magnetic force seems to pull Steve towards Bucky and in a flash Steve is sitting on the ground right next to Bucky, an inch of space between the two.  He takes a quick second to look at Bucky’s profile, and is slowly being pulled into staring for a lot longer.  But instead of cataloging every single detail Steve can find, he is hypnotized by Bucky as a whole, beautiful and dazzling.

“You’re staring again.”   Steve bites his lip and looks down at ground, feeling like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, humiliation rushing the blood to his face.

“I should be the one apologizing.”  Bucky’s incredibly soft voice causes Steve to look up, and he finally meets Bucky’s eyes.  “It was wrong of me to be angry at you, seeing how you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Wave after wave of relief and bliss washing over Steve.  Bucky doesn’t hate him, he apologized, he doesn’t hate him, he knew he was in the wrong, Bucky doesn’t hate him.

“It’s okay.”  Steve very nonchalantly replied.  “I still feel bad about it.”  He was silent for a beat before continuing.  “I feel bad whenever it happens to anyone.”  A small lump in his throat accompanied with the small pricks in his eyes causes Steve to turn away quickly, horrified by the onslaught of emotions that are really unnecessary right now.  _Pull it together Rogers, pull it fucking together._

“Natasha told me how much crap you get from everyone,” Bucky whispered.  He was gazing upwards again but the stillness surrounding them made it easy for Steve to hear him.  “I’m actually surprised you would still come here, seeing how many people probably hate you and your family.”

Steve just shrugs, not quite sure how to respond.  He’s thought about that a lot – why does he come to these parties?  Almost every week someone will yell in his face about how Mr. Rogers is a stupid idiot who doesn’t know how to run a company, and Steve is just as dumb as his father (and that’s putting it mildly.)  And Steve really can’t do or say anything back, not even stand up for himself, even though he is tested every time.  But what good would it do?  The LeHigh students who hate him would relish in seeing the “Golden Boy” lose control, and his father would be all over him.  It’s much easier to stick to the status quo and just walk away.

“But it was really stupid of me to get mad at you,” Bucky said, his tone much lighter than before.  “I still need help with my paper.”  His teasing made Steve look at him, and a playful smirk on Bucky’s face made the lingering sadness in his chest fade away.  Steve smiled back, a tad gratefully, and shook his head good-naturedly as he looks back to the stars.

He hears rustling beside him and glances to the side – Bucky is putting a joint to his lips and searching for his lighter in his pocket.  Finally digging it out, he lights up the joint before noticing Steve watching him out of the corner of his eye.  Smirking again Bucky takes a hit before offering it to Steve.

“No thanks,” Steve declines.

“What are you, a boy scout?”

Steve sighs, bothered at having to explain himself again.  “No, I just don’t care for it.”

“Well have you tried it?”

“Yes.” Steve’s answer is too quick and too defensive, and the way Bucky grins indicates that he knows that Steve is lying.  Steve just scoffs and mumbles, “Whatever.”

“I bet there are a lot of things you haven’t tried,” Bucky said.  His voice is low and suggestive and Steve can’t help but watch him take a pull from the joint, eyes zeroing in on his lips wrapped around the rolled-up paper as he takes a breath, and the embers from the tip casting shadows on his defined face.

Steve finds himself leaning in closer, the small gap between them lessening with each second and it’s not until he hears Bucky’s gentle and steady breathing before he realizes what he’s doing.  Steve pulls away and straightens up, re-defining the space between them and clearing his throat.

Bucky chuckled and shook his head.  “I knew you were a goody two-shoes.”  He shakes his head and looks back up to the stars, taking another hit.

Steve wants to open his mouth and disagree, list all the reasons why he’s a rebel and prove it to Bucky by kissing his beautiful face.  But he can’t, because Bucky’s right.

And Steve doesn’t even get the chance to think of possible explanations before they are joined by another person.

“Ah there you are Bucky.”  The confident boy sets Steve on edge, already well aware of who the newcomer is.

Brock Rumlow tumbles down into the grass on the other side of Bucky, reaching over and taking the blunt from Bucky’s hands.  Steve notices how Brock’s fingers linger on Bucky’s for a second longer than necessary and he doesn’t miss the quick look they both share.

“Oh, Brock this is Steve Rogers.”  Bucky perks up and quickly indicates to Steve.  “Steve, this is -”

“I know who he is.”  Steve replied lowly, never taking his eyes off of Brock.

Brock in return smirks at Steve and blows the smoke in his direction.  “Long time no see, how’ve you been?”  He even has the audacity to wink at Steve.

The fucker.

Steve quickly stands up, unable to be in the presence of someone as filthy and disgusting at Brock Rumlow.  “Well, I’m gonna go.”

“What, no,” the disappointment in Bucky’s voice is almost enough to pull Steve back down and look at the stars all night.  And the puppy eyes imploring with Steve is just about to do the trick when Brock speaks up too.

“Yeah don’t go.  We’re about to have some _real_ fun.”  Brock’s voice is nowhere near as upset, in fact he seems to be encouraging Steve to head on out.

But Steve is locked eyes with Bucky, who is now looking strangely at Steve.  He almost looks hopeful and expectant, and Steve is thrown by trying to guess what Bucky believes he will do, or what Steve even wants to do himself.  However, the look is gone in a flash and replaced with disdained regret and Steve catches the eye roll as Bucky turns away.  He watches as Bucky scoots closer to Brock and leans his head on his shoulder, snuggling closer to the biggest asshole in the world (in Steve’s opinion.)

Seething Steve storms off in search of his friends.  He doesn’t care that it’s not time to go, he doesn’t care if his friends are having fun, they are leaving and that is _final_.  He avoids Clint and Natasha, not wanting to try and answer any questions about Bucky, but now he won’t have a problem telling them that their friend is a teasing jerk.

Surprisingly none of his friends oppose to leaving early.  Either they had a great time or see the furious look on his face and decide not to object.

Also not surprising were Sam and Sharon making a beeline to the back seat of the car, both having their arms wrapped around each other.  Steve almost felt bad for cutting short their night of leaning on each other and almost kissing, but he was still pissed at the thought of Bucky and Brock being together.

But what was surprising was Tony sliding into the front seat silently, with a thoughtful expression on his face.  Steve almost asked him if everything was okay, but he was seething silently at Bucky and Brock sharing a joint and each other’s company.

It was a long and silent trip back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God Brock Rumlow is such an ass. 
> 
> Thanks for the love from the next chapter, find me on tumblr [here](http://peglegmeglikeskegs.tumblr.com/) !


	6. Chapter 6

“You guys didn’t even _kiss?!_ ”

“No Sharon, we did not kiss.”

“But you guys were gone for a long time!”

“Were we?”  Steve asked the group at large.  It was the tail end of their family brunch at the Rogers’ Residence, and after mingling and making painfully awkward small talk Steve, Sharon, Sam and Tony escaped to a private drawing room to talk, recover from hangovers, think pensively, etc.

“Did you want to kiss him?”  Sharon asked Steve.  She had been firing questions at Steve throughout the morning, so the thousand questions she asked came at different times and in different situations.

Steve had been so fed up that he snapped at her from the buffet table, earning a disapproving look from his father and a scandalized look from one of the older board members of SteelCorp. 

“Yes I wanted to kiss him.”  Steve stressed.  “Of course I wanted to kiss him.”

“Then why didn’t you?”  Sam asked from a chair he draped himself in.  He had loosened his tie and covered his eyes with his arm to shield the sun and he sounded snarky and drained – the necessary components for a hungover morning.  But Steve didn’t spare him any sympathy.  Especially after he threw up in the backseat of Steve’s jeep on the drive home last night.

“It didn’t feel right,” Steve concluded after a pause.  “He was high, we were just hanging out.  I don’t want our first kiss to be clouded by anything other than just us.”

“Oh, so now you think you guys will have a first kiss?”  Sharon asked smugly with her eyebrows raised. 

Steve shot her a dirty look before getting his thoughts together.  “Well…I don’t know.  I _want_ to kiss Bucky…but it doesn’t even matter because Rumlow showed up and swooped in to charm the pants off of Bucky.”

Nobody made fun of Steve for his particular choice of words, seeing how they were all scowling at the mention of Brock Rumlow’s name.  Everyone was familiar with Rumlow - nobody likes him, and their collected hatred manifested into pure loathing after The Incident (which no one talks about, thinks about, or even breathes about.)

“Rumlow is trash.”  Tony quipped from his position by the window.  He had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the day and even made polite conversation with his parents’ friends at brunch.  And now he stood away from his friends in the room, electing to stare out onto the grounds on Steve’s property.

It was definitely strange and asking him about it was on Steve’s to-do list, but he was trying to sort through his complicated emotions and feelings for Bucky while simultaneously forcing himself to think of anything but Bucky and Brock alone in a field.  Because the latter thought made him want to punch a wall, then Rumlow’s face and then another wall.

“Well Bucky likes trash I guess.”  Steve sighed defeated and leaned back in his own chair.  He looked out of the windows, replaying the moments from last night in his head.  At least the moments that happened before stupid Rumlow came and ruined everything.  The way Bucky tilted his head up to watch the stairs, or his gentle voice soothing Steve’s nerves, and how he even apologized for his misplaced anger earlier in the week.

Good god, it hasn’t even been a week and Steve is already obsessing over the few shared memories they have together.  Steve needs to get his shit together and figure out what he wants to do with Bucky.

Well, it’s not super hard to think about what he _wants_ to do with Bucky, it’s more of what he _should_ do about the Bucky situation.

“Hey maybe he was trying to make you jealous!”  Sharon exclaimed.  Steve shot her a look that echoed his despondent thoughts on the idea, which she ignored with a shake of her head.  “Or maybe-”

“Look it doesn’t matter.”  Steve cut across.  “We aren’t going to be a thing, or whatever.  It’s just not going to happen, okay?  Things like that don’t happen to me, alright?” 

Steve didn’t mean to speak so firmly but by the looks on his friends’ faces it seems that he had more of a dramatic outburst.  Slightly embarrassed Steve turned his attention back to the windows.  Tack on another thing to feel bad about – not only is Steve a complete failure at talking to cute boys, but now he’s a jerk to his friends that only want to help him. Add it to the list of things Steve hates about himself and it's a miracle that he can function in society.

“Steve…” Sharon started gently.

“No Sharon.”  Steve replied, his voice firm again.  He felt bad enough for being mean to his friends and he certainly doesn’t need a pity party from them.  He'll hear that he's a great guy, and he's not a disappointing son, and how there's someone out there for everyone.  He's heard it before, and just like before, he won't believe it.

He should probably see someone about that.  Oh well.

“Steve I think what Sharon wants to say is that good things do happen to you and you deserve them because you’re a good person.  But also if Bucky is proving to be much more pain than pleasure then you shouldn’t be hurting yourself physically and emotionally to make him feel better.”

Steve, Sharon and Sam stared at Tony, matching shocked expressions on their faces.  Tony was texting on his phone and only looked up when the silence continued in the room.  “What, do I have something on my face?”

“Are you okay?”  Sam asked Tony cautiously. 

“Of course, I am a perfect human being.”

“Well, it’s just that you said I was a terrible person just a few days ago.”  Steve brought up carefully. 

Tony blinked, but quickly responded.  “Well I obviously didn’t mean it.”  When his friends shared skeptical glances Tony huffed out again.  “I said I’m _fine_.  Why aren’t we making fun of Wilson, he’s the one who threw up last night.  You’re buying the booze next weekend.”

“No no, the rule is if any of us throw up at the _party_.  The car doesn’t count!”

Steve watched his friends bicker about the parameters and official rules they decided on long ago, with Sharon interjecting her point every now and then.  Steve was more than happy to sit back and listen, rather than contribute to the conversation.  Tony’s surprisingly helpful point was sticking to him like glue and he couldn’t help but grin as the kind and thoughtful words settled in Steve’s brain.

For the rest of the afternoon Steve and his friends relaxed together and before they were ready Sharon had to leave for the airport with her Aunt Peggy.

“You’ll be back soon though, right?”  Sam said, his tiny voice sounding a little hopeful.  Everyone was bidding Peggy and Sharon safe travels in the Rogers’ foyer before being dropped off at the airport.  “Homecoming is next week and you’re going with Steve right?”

“I am?”  Sharon turned to Steve expectantly. 

“Steven,” Sarah scolded, having overheard Sharon’s response.  “Did you not ask Sharon to Homecoming?!”

Steve winced.  “Er, right.  Um Sharon,” Steve turned to his friend, extremely embarrassed as all eyes were on him.  “Will you please come to the Homecoming dance with me?”

Sharon smiled and nodded before standing on her toes to give him a peck on the cheek.  “I would love to go with you Steve, thank you for asking me.”

Steve nodded, meeting her smile with a small one of his own.  Sharon turned away so she could give Tony a brisk yet strong hug.  Peggy came up to Steve and gave him a tight hug as well.

“It was lovely to see you Steve.”  She spoke into his ear.  “And we’ll be back soon for the Stark Tower celebration.  And soon after you’ll be spending Christmas in London, and it’ll be marvelous!”

“That does sound wonderful, Peggy.  It was great to see you.”  He pulled away and was yet again subjected to a quick appraisal by her.

“Make sure you behave, but not too well.”  She winked at him before moving on to Steve’s parents.  Steve turned to watch Sharon give Sam a gentle hug, both holding onto each other for longer than necessary.  Not that Steve was going to dive in and ruin any more of their happiness.  The guilt was churning his stomach and making him nauseous and Steve had to take a deep breath before giving Sharon a hug.

“Please don’t wear yourself too thin.”  She whispered fiercely into his ear.  “You do what seems right to you and only you, promise me.”

“I promise.”  Steve stepped back and kissed her forehead, meeting her searching eyes with his.  “I’ll see you soon.”

“I expect you to text me if anything develops, capiche?”

Steve smiled and nodded.  “I promise.”  He repeated.  Sharon nodded and left.

Soon after Peggy, Sharon and the entourage departed the Wilsons left, Sam giving a sad and pathetic wave goodbye.  Mr. and Mrs. Stark also left but Tony stuck around and followed Steve up to his room.  He flopped down on Steve’s bed and sighed, but didn’t voice his problems.  Steve sighed quietly, knowing that this would be an interesting conversation.

“Okay, spill.  What’s going on with you?”

Tony looked up to Steve’s face thoughtfully, as if seeing him for the very first time.  “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to talk to you about feelings, you are in touch with your feminine side.”

“Tony.”  Steve said flatly. 

And surprisingly Tony grimaced at the reprimand.  “I’m sorry, that was mean.”

“Since when have you apologized for being mean?”

“Since Pepper told me I was a jackass.”

“Ahhhhh.”  Suddenly it all made sense to Steve.  Well not really, but still.  “What does Pepper expressing her opinion on your brash attitude have to do with you?”

“She said she would try to talk to me if I wasn’t such a jerk to people, so I’m trying to be nicer.”  Tony replied in a low voice.  “But it’s so haaaaaaaaaard.”

“Really?”  Steve said with surprise in his voice.  “She is finally giving you a chance?”  Tony nods, looking a depressed as a kicked puppy.  “Well, do you think she’s worth it?”

Tony tilted his head to the side in confusion.  “What do you mean?”

“Like, do you think changing for Pepper is worth it?”

“Yes.”  Wow, no hesitation.  Tony was serious.  “I mean, she has a point.”  Tony flipped over to his back and spoke to the ceiling.  “I’ve been mean to you guys all the time – especially you, because it is just _so_ easy.”  Steve makes an annoyed face that Tony doesn’t see so he keeps going.  “And she is worth it, 100%.  I mean, every time I just talk to her I feel amazing, and I can’t even begin to describe how much I really want to date her.”

Steve was silent at Tony’s confession.  He can’t remember that last time his friend spoke so passionately or truthfully about something that wasn’t science or mechanics, and even then he would always make fun of Steve and Sam when they didn’t understand what language he was speaking.

“When I talk to her and when she talks to me…it makes me feel like I matter.”  Tony said in a quiet voice, vulnerability evident in his tone and his expression.

“You know you matter to me and Sam thought, right?”  Steve asked, hoping his friend didn’t think they hated him or something.  Sure he may butt heads with Tony at least three times a day, but he would always be his best friend.

“Oh yeah I do.”  Tony assured him without any sarcasm and malice in his voice.  “But it’s different with her.  A good different, like I want to become a better person for her but she also makes me want to be a better person for me.”

“Wow Tony,” Steve started.  “That is awesome.  And Pepper is a great girl too – smart, funny and kind.”

Tony sat up and grinned.  “She’s gonna run the company someday.”

“What, Stark Industries?”

Tony nodded, still smiling.  And he just looked so _happy_ that Steve couldn’t bear to say anything to bring him back to reality.  So he just smiled in return, bypassing the hollow feeling in his gut for one of delight for his friend.

*****

For the rest of Sunday and all of Monday and Tuesday Steve had to mentally and physically prepare himself for the next tutoring session at LeHigh.  This included doubling his daily breathing exercises, adding an extra 20 minutes to his morning run, and practicing in casual and relaxed face in the mirror (as embarrassing as that sounds.)

But by Tuesday afternoon Steve was much more calm and in control of his emotions.  He decided to take Tony’s advice to heart (something he thought he’d never do) and just try to be a friend for Bucky.  While Steve knows that he definitely wants more he’s stressing himself to the max by trying to be an ideal boy for Bucky and putting all the blame on himself when any little goes wrong.  But their “relationship” (which Steve is not a fan of even calling it as such but oh well) involves Steve _and_ Bucky.  If Bucky doesn’t like Steve as a person then it wasn’t worth it to him.  And Steve will have to accept that and move on.

Steve really hopes Bucky likes him.

Steve walks by Clint and gives him a quick wave.  Clint nods back and returns to his book.  So far neither he nor Natasha has said a word to Steve about the party, and he isn’t sure what to make of it.  He’s pretty certain that they’re not mad at him or hate him, but Steve is certainly paranoid enough to believe that they’re both plotting his demise right now.

But Clint’s nod looked friendly enough, so maybe not.

Steve finds his table and begins to pull out his books.  It’s not until he takes out his favorite that he looks up and finds Bucky standing right in front of his table.  His expression is cool but not cold, and he actually looks a little cautious.  Steve can’t help but notice Bucky wringing his hands nervously.

Wait, is Bucky _worried_?  Is he uneasy of _Steve_?

“Hey,” Bucky says off-handedly.  “I’m, uh, I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Really?”  Steve asks, surprised on his own.  “Why wouldn’t I come?”

“I thought you were mad at me because of what happened Saturday night.”  Bucky replied, still looking a little jumpy.

“No, I’m not mad.”  Steve replied evenly.  “You need help with your history paper, and I said I’d help you.”

Bucky was now staring at Steve, as if Steve had just grown two more heads.  It was a little off-putting and Steve shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I mean,” Steve began again.  “If you don’t want help with your paper I can help other people here.”

“No!”  Bucky said loudly, and ducked his head when other people glanced at him.  He turned beet red and sat down across from Steve.  “I _do_ need help with my paper.  Like as much as possible. But I’m just…”  He seemed lost in thought with continuing to gaze at Steve.

“Now who’s the one staring?”  Steve teased with a light smile.

Bucky barked a laugh but grinned, relief flooding his face.  “I’m sorry,” he said as he relaxed into his seat.  “I just really didn’t think you’d be here, let alone still willing to help me.”

Steve sighed, inwardly cursing himself for his shitty attitude last weekend.  He might’ve thought he was justified in his actions, but clearly he was much worse than he originally thought.  He steeled himself for an apology and sat up straighter.  “I know it was very rude of me to just up and leave you last Saturday night when you asked me to stay, and I’m sorry.”

Bucky was silent, gawking at Steve again.  “Wait, are you apologizing for that?  Oh man, I don’t blame you for leaving!  Hell I don’t blame you for _anything_!  Wait a minute,” Bucky requested as his smile widened.  “Have you been thinking this whole time that _I’d_ be the one upset with you?!”

“Well, I guess so.”  Steve answered, suddenly not sure if his answer will make Bucky happy or not.  _Just be yourself,_ he thought.  _Don’t worry about what he says or does._

Good God, Steve’s inner thoughts need to chill out for two seconds. 

“No way man, I was going to apologize to you!”  Bucky chuckled uneasily but he was still smiling.  “Yeah, I know I, um…came on a bit strong.”  Bucky blushed and tried to not look too guilty.

Steve was still extremely confused by the direction of their conversation, and really had no idea what to say back.  But the poor guy was sitting in his seat, trying not to fidget while looking shameful.

“No Bucky, I wasn’t mad about _that_.  No I’m just…stupid.”  Bucky tilted his head to the side at Steve’s explanation, looking both confused and adorable, which really didn’t help the situation.  “Look, let’s just forget it happened, yeah?  I’m not mad, you’re not mad – everything is perfect.”

Bucky nodded, looking thankful.  “That sounds like a perfect idea.”  His eyes twinkled as he smiled, which of course send Steve’s heart into overdrive.  He may be dialing back his personality and behavior with Bucky, but he can’t stop his heart from beating like a madman when Bucky smiles at him or his legs from turning into jelly.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking,” Steve started as he ignored the fluttering sensation in his stomach.  “Why were you so nervous to talk to me?  You acted like I would be really upset with you or something.”

“You know, I really don’t know.” Bucky sounded thoughtful as he set his folder on the table.  “Normally if I strike out with a hot dude I get over it.”  Steve blushed at Bucky’s compliment but the other boy continued.  “But there’s something special about you, Rogers.  Besides you being incredibly gorgeous, you’re smart, funny -”

“Alright, alright that’s enough.”  Steve cut in, thoroughly embarrassed.

“What, it’s true!”  Bucky pointed out genuinely.  “Are you embarrassed about it?  Because most hot people know they’re hot and use that to their advantage.”

“Can we stop talking about it now?”  Steve pleaded.  Bucky tilted his head to the side again and considered Steve thoughtfully, his eyes piercing Steve.  Steve felt his neck heat up and he had to look down at his books in discomfort.

“Okay, I’ll drop it now,” Bucky decided.  “But only because we have to work on my paper.  Don’t think you’re getting off too easy, Rogers.”  He wagged his finger at Steve menacingly, but his eyes were still kind and gentle.

Steve just rolled his own and muttered, “thank god.”

Bucky just laughed and reached for a pen.  “You’re a punk.”

Steve grinned and whispered back, “Jerk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Stevie, he doesn't even know how great he is. Bucky to the rescue!
> 
> I do apologize that this chapter is a day late, I was out of town for the Thanksgiving Holiday, in a place with no internet connection (*Insert Psycho Theme*). I just got back this morning and I had to get the chapter up ASAP! Thank you for your patience!
> 
> And thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! :)


	7. Chapter 7

The soft jazz background music and the tinkling of glasses should be nothing but relaxing and enjoyable, but it pissed Steve off more than anything.

He _was_ impressed with the celebration the Starks put together for their Stark Tower 15 th year celebration, with endless plates of exquisite and delectable entrees, and bottomless glasses of vintage champagne.  But everything, from the tiny plates of food to the obnoxious and shallow guests left Steve in a stormy mood.

“I wonder how much I’d have to drink until I start having fun.”  Sam mumbled to Steve.

“Enough to probably kill you.”  Steve replied darkly.  His jab didn’t earn a laugh or smile, as Sam downed his champagne and reached for another.  Sharon’s untimely absence was noticeable, and neither Sam nor Steve had any desire to attend the party after they found out she wasn’t coming.  Even under the reassurance that she was still coming to Homecoming (doubtful in Steve’s opinion) the boys still refused to come.  But after much convincing, or threatening, by their parents, they both had no choice but to put on their best and go.

Although Steve rebelled against his parents’ wishes to look presentable by only wearing his second best suit and didn’t have matching socks.  Which he knows sounds incredibly vapid and vain but he really doesn’t care.

Steve wonders what Bucky would say if he found out that Steve wore his second-best suit.  Probably make fun of him for having more than one suit, and deeming one better than the other. 

Steve should really stop thinking about Bucky so much.

“It sucks that Sharon’s not here.”  Sam supplied.  Steve just nodded, ignoring the fact that it was the seventh time Sam said that to him.  They fell silent and Steve really takes in the room for the first time.

The party was being held in the penthouse of Stark Tower, right below the Stark’s private apartment.  Long gold drapes lined the wall, with ceiling-to-floor windows facing out over Charlotte, NC.  Caterers donned golden bowties as they carried around golden trays with food and drinks, and a pianist played on a golden piano.

It’s an extravagant and borderline garish affair, and the scantily-clad women with their skin spray-painted gold also carrying drinks are a bit much.

It’s so much money thrown into one night, and while Steve isn’t a stranger to over-the-top parties, this one leaves him somewhat out of depth.

“Oh Steven Rogers!  Darling how have you been?!”

A trilling voice, that instantly grated Steve’s brain, called over the crowd and Steve watched as a woman almost fight her way through the crowd and waltz up to Steve and Sam.

“Hello Ms. Everhart how have you been?”  Steve put on his polite and professional voice and held out a hand to shake.  But the woman had other plans and held her own hand out for Steve to kiss.  Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Steve complied and grit his teeth and she trilled with delight as Steve brushed his lips against her hand lightly.

“Oh Steven it’s been far too long.  How’re your parents?  How’s the company doing, any secrets we should know about?”  She leaned in conspiratorially, getting way too close for Steve’s liking.

“Oh you know they don’t tell me anything,” Steve replies, hoping that this broad will get the message and get out of his face.

“Well any scandals or problems with the family?”  Christine Everhart clearly didn’t get the message, and seemed to press further into Steve’s personal bubble and was practically standing flush against him.

“Are you seriously asking Steve to rat his family?”  Sam asked indignantly, his voice loud enough to attract the attention of people around him.  Christine’s smile became forced but she stepped away and turned her venomous smile to Sam.

“Why, _is_ there something that he is hiding?  Or what about you, sunshine?  How’s the Wilson clan?”

“That’s enough.”  Steve said firmly.  “We’re at a party Ms. Everhart, and we’re here to celebrate the Starks’ accomplishments.  That’s all we’re going to say, so you might as well leave now before we get security involved.”

The reporter blinked once, an ugly look on her face.  But she quickly masked it into a polite coolness, nodded and left without another word.

Sam exhaled loudly.  “Jesus, at least she was forward this time.”

Steve nodded, staying silent.  Christine Everhart had a wonderful habit of ruining any event she crashed (she always said invited, but everyone knew otherwise.)  Not that Steve was having a grand time before, but now he wanted nothing more than to be home alone painting.  He hasn’t even painted in months, but it just shows how annoyed and troubled he is.

“Wanna bail?”  He asks Sam.  “I’m taking off regardless.”

“Yes please,” Sam answered desperately.  “But we didn’t get to see Tony.”

“He’s fine.”  Steve replied.  “We can tell him what a great party it was tomorrow, if he shows up for school.”

Sam nodded knowingly.  “Let me just tell my parents and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Sounds good.”  Sam quickly left through the crowd, and Steve ducks his head as he tries to do the same.  But of course many people stop him and try to talk which in reality they’re just sucking up to Steve in the hopes that he’ll pass on their well-wishes to his father.

Their fakeness is what really grinds Steve’s gears, and he almost has to stop and ask who the hell they think they are.  But he can’t, because he has to uphold the Roger’s family image and Rogers are polite and courteous to everyone.  And seeing how everyone that talks to Steve is either fake as fuck or incredibly mean and rude, Steve is forced to be kind when he’d rather tell everyone to piss off.

He knows that he only has a few people in his life that are his tried and true friends, and even then he doesn’t feel that much of a strong connection to them.

And of course, his thoughts drift back unwillingly to Bucky.  In the shot time that Steve has known Bucky, he can tell that the guy is not fake.  Mean, maybe, but his intentions aren’t cruel.

Bucky is very vocal about his thoughts and feelings, and will not hesitate to tell you what he really thinks.  Bucky had criticized Steve’s handwriting (“How can anyone read this chicken scratch?”), moaned the air in the library (“It’s too fucking stuffy in here, Jesus.”), and ridiculed his own paper assignment (“Twelve pages?  Am I a child slave in North Korea or what?”).  But even though every other sentence from Bucky’s mouth is usually a complaint, he has talked to Steve about his family and friends.  And Steve learns that he lives with his mother and father, Winifred and George, on a sprawling farm that only houses “demon” chickens (“Stupid fucking birds, shitting everywhere.”), and his older sister Rebecca lives in Texas with her husband (“He’s a douchebag, but he has good beer in their fridge so it’s okay.”)

Through the complaining and retelling of stories, Steve understands how open and honest Bucky is.  It may come across as rude and offensive, but when Bucky talks about his family and friends, Steve can see the undying loyalty that Bucky has for them.  The love and adoration is clear as day, even when he scoffs at his mom’s obsession with her chickens.  He may be the first person to laugh at them, but the minute someone else tries to join in on it Bucky’ll snap and make them wish they never spoke up in the first place.  Not many people will display those emotions willingly, and here’s Bucky wearing his heart on his sleeve like a badge of honor.  It takes a high level of courage to do that, and it fascinates and confuses Steve to no end.

Steve grew up under the impression that you don’t talk about your feelings or thoughts willy-nilly, and especially not to people you didn’t know.  He honestly can’t remember the last time he had a real conversation with someone else.  He sometimes will talk with Sharon or Sam about his feelings and they will offer sage advice to him, but Steve will never reveal all of his secrets.  Even though Steve knows his friends would be nothing but supportive and kind.  But Steve just doesn’t feel comfortable with talking candidly about every thought that crosses his mind.  So when Bucky goes off without a filter, Steve just sits back and watches the show.

It will sometimes cross his mind that maybe he could open up to Bucky and let him be the one to break down Steve’s walls.  There’s something about him that sets him apart from Steve’s other friends.  It’s not so much that he’s witty, because Sharon is quick on her feet with a sassy remark.  Bucky’s smart (despite his own attempts to downplay his brilliance, Steve is amazed at the ideas and theories he’ll think of for his paper), but so is Tony.  Heck Bucky’s even kind in his own way, but Sam is the gentlest of Steve’s friends.

So what makes Bucky so extraordinary?  What sets him apart from the rest?

He’s hot, he’s so unbelievably hot that it drives Steve insane.

Just thinking about it makes Steve cringe.  Is he only attracted to Bucky for his looks?  He shares the same traits as Steve’s other friends, but Steve has no desire to kiss Sharon, Tony or Sam (although he has had some weird dreams with him and Sam in compromising positions, but that’s beside the point.) 

Steve had always vowed to never become so engrossed with someone’s outer appearance, knowing that there is so much more splendor that lies beneath the surface.  The ugliest person in the world could have a heart so pure and kind, but they are easily overlooked by the majority because beauty has been rigidly defined by mainstream society.  And that someone, who may have nothing but love and kindness to share, is stripped of their confidence and self-love, and they will live a life feeling inadequate and disappointing.

Steve knows he was given genes that would allow him to never worry about outer beauty, if suggestive looks from men and women are anything to go by.   And every look he gets makes him angry, knowing that they wouldn’t care if he were an asshole or not, because he’s gorgeous.  Good looks supposedly equals acceptable, and surpasses intelligence, sympathy and compassion.

So when Steve looks at Bucky, and sees the handsome features that really do set him apart from a lot of people, he hates himself a little bit.  Because Bucky is undeniably attractive and Steve worries that’s all he really cares about.

Steve figures this is the kind of thing he would talk about _if_ he had a person who knew his every secret, but he’d rather shove it all down and act like how everyone wants him to act.

 “Dude, you got the car ready?” 

Steve nearly jumps out of his skin, being so engrossed in his inner soliloquy that he didn’t hear Sam approach him from behind.  Or realize that he made it down to the busy streets of Downtown Charlotte.

“Uh, not yet sorry.”

Sam gave him a questioning look.  “You ok?  You look really out of it.”

Steve nodded firmly, assuring Sam and himself that he is really fine and nothing is wrong.  They walk down to find the Wilson’s driver standing by their limo.  Sam gives Steve one more concerned glance before ducking his head and getting in.  Steve sighed to himself, forcing his inner thoughts to retire for the night, and followed suit behind his friend.

*****

Of course willing one’s self to be in a good mood is never good enough against the forces of fate.

It all started with a phone call at 4:30AM Friday morning, which Steve already knows would be from Sharon.  In London.

“Hi hi, I know I’m not supposed to be here in London, but something’s come up with Aunt Peggy’s work and I can’t make it to homecoming anymore.”  She sounded distressed and upset, but Steve’s sleep-addled brain wasn’t keeping up with the conversation.

“Wuzgnon?”  He mumbled as he sat up in his bed.

“Oh Jesus, I completely forgot about the time change!  Oh I’m so sorry Steve!”  She had already hung up by the time that Steve had comprehended what she said before and he quickly called her back.

“Please don’t hate me,” Sharon begged as she answered.

“I don’t hate you.”  Steve replied, trying to sound soothing and calm.  “Don’t worry about it, things happen.”

“Oh, but I had a dress and an appointment for my hair and I was so excited to see you and everyone!”  She sounded close to tears so Steve just tried to make comforting noises and repeated phrases to calm her down.

Once Sharon had apologized again, promising to make it up to him when they came to visit over break, Steve sat in bed for a full five minutes, telling himself that the day is not spoiled and things can only go up from here.

But of course the universe never does what Steve’s wants.

Steve tripped on his run and definitely pulled something in his hamstring that shouldn’t be pulled, didn’t realize he was drinking decaf coffee until he finished his second cup of the day, forgot to kiss his mother goodbye as he left for school, had to endure a stern phone call from his mother about not saying goodbye to her on his drive to school, causing him to miss his turn and show up to homeroom late, realized he left his wallet at home and didn’t have any food for lunch, showed up late to help with a last-minute homecoming committee meeting and forgot to mention to Coach Phillips that he would be running late to practice, thus causing the whole team to run suicide sprints on his behalf, straining his injured hamstring more than ever during practice, and finished the practice with more suicide sprints thanks to the younger players goofing off during practice.

To sum it all up, Steve had a shit day.  Which was now made worse, as he was running late to his tutoring session with Bucky.

Steve quickly parked his car in the LeHigh parking lot.  He grabbed his bag and briskly walked to the front doors, checking his phone for any message from Bucky.

“I was wondering when you were gonna show up.”

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin but his look of shock quickly turned to delight as he took in Bucky leaning against the school wall.  He had a cigarette clinched in his fingers and a sly smile on his face.  His whole demeanor screamed classic “bad boy” but instead of scaring Steve away it drew him in and only made Steve want more.

God Steve needs to get a grip.  Shaking his head of his errant thoughts, he glanced down at the cigarette.  “Those things will kill you, you know.”

Bucky only smiled and took in another drag.  After he exhaled into the air (which shouldn’t be sexy in any way what so ever) he spoke again.  “Yeah, but what won’t kill you these days?”

“Working on your history paper.”  Bucky’s laugh at the quick quip made Steve’s insides warm, and he only smiled back and went to open the door.

“Hold up,” Bucky interposed and Steve’s hand stilled on the handle.  “You look like shit.”

Steve shrugged, pretending that it wasn’t a day from hell for him.  “I’ve had a long day.”

“I can tell.  Let’s skip studying for tonight, and just go get coffee.”

Steve immediately shook his head.  “No, it’s okay.  I’m good, I can help you with your paper.”

“Well what if I don’t want to work on my paper?”  Bucky asked his question with a smirk that should drive Steve crazy in not a good way, but it was working for him and he slowly took his hand off the door.  He knows that he doesn’t have anything set in his schedule for coffee, but now that Bucky doesn’t want to work on his paper Steve couldn’t see any harm in deviating from his agenda.

“Well, I guess I have time for a quick cup of coffee.”  Bucky lit up at Steve’s response, which solidified Steve’s decision to deviate from his agenda (scandalous!), so to speak.

“Perfect, and would you mind giving me a lift?  My truck’s in the shop.”  Bucky sounded slightly sheepish, but Steve only nodded reassuringly and took out his own keys.

“Come on,” Steve gestured to the parking lot and lead Bucky to his car.  “I had to park in the back, I am sorry I was running late today.”

“No worries man.  Like I said, you look like you’ve been through hell and back.”

Steve nodded.  “Yeah, it was a rough day.”

“Maybe you can tell me about it at -” Bucky’s voice trailed off and Steve stopped once he realized Bucky wasn’t walking with him anymore.  He took in his gaping face and quickly connected the dots as Steve’s own eyes found his car.

A blush crept up Steve’s neck as he realized that his Audi R8 Coupe would probably stick out like a sore thumb in this parking lot.  He got the car as a gift for his 17th birthday over the summer, and while he loved the smooth drive and sleek interior, Steve thought it was too flashy for him.  And seeing the incredulous look on Bucky’s face just make Steve blush deeper.

“This is your car?!” Bucky exclaimed, standing still in shock.

“Uh, yeah.”  Steve tried to say off-handedly.  “It’s no big deal.”

“Oh yeah, it’s no big deal at all.  It’s just a hundred thousand dollar car that’s no big deal.”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Steve responded.  “I just don’t need it.”

“Well then give it to me.”

Steve forced an awkward laugh but finally unlocked the car and sat in the driver’s seat.  Bucky just stood outside the passenger seat, still staring at the car adoringly.  Steve started the car and Bucky finally jumped into action, gingerly opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat.  He delicately closed the door behind him and sat rigid in his seat, as if he didn’t want to ruin the interior.  Steve almost cracked a joke about Bucky taking off his muddy boots, but the slight look of personal inadequacy and childlike awe on Bucky’s face made Steve think otherwise.

“Where to?”  Steve asked gently.

Bucky cleared his throat and spoke up in a hushed tone.  “Take a left out of here.”

Steve nodded and put the car in gear.  On the drive to the coffee shop, Bucky didn’t say a word sans the directions to the shop.  But from the quick glances of out the corner of Steve’s eye, he watched Bucky look around the inside of the car, his hands carefully touching every surface possible.  Once he caught Steve watching him, he pulled his hands in his lap and turned beet red.

“Hey pick something on the radio,” Steve said.  He tried to sound relaxed, and hoped his request wouldn’t be too patronizing, but Bucky eagerly sat forward and fiddled with the stereo settings.  He settled on an alternative rock station, one that Steve would’ve never found on his own, but the soft guitar and gentle singing (bordering on wailing, but Steve decided let that go) were soothing enough for Steve and seemed to help Bucky relax.

“This is a beautiful car.”  Bucky said, breaking his silence. 

“Thank you,” Steve replied earnestly.  Bucky’s small smile set Steve’s heart into overdrive, and he had to force his eyes on the road unless they wanted to get into an accident. 

They finally pulled up to the café, a small but cozy shop that Steve knew was inhabited by many LeHigh students and even a few S.H.I.E.L.D. students.  To Steve’s surprise, Clint was behind the counter taking orders and steaming milk for fancy coffee drinks.

“I didn’t know you worked here.”  Steve told him as they made their way to the counter.

“Gotta earn a living somehow, we can’t all be trust fund babies.”  Clint replied without any bite.  Steve ducked his head in embarrassment.

“On that note, my coffee is on him.”  Bucky said with a laugh, breaking any imagined tension on Steve’s part.  Steve looked up and shot him a dirty look, which didn’t do anything to break his smile.

After grabbing their coffees they retreated to a small table in the corner, where Steve recounted his terrible day to Bucky, earning short comments and sympathetic looks.  They stayed and talked until the café closed, and once Steve offered to give Bucky a ride home, he declined. 

“Clint owes me one,” he explained as he pointed to his friend wiping the espresso machine down.

“Did you drag me here just so you could get a ride home tonight?”  Steve asked in a teasing voice.

“Wow Rogers, you’re smarter than I thought.”  Bucky said as he walked Steve out.  Steve laughed and shrugged his shoulders knowingly, earning another chuckle from Bucky.  They finally made it to the noticeable car, but Bucky hesitated before going back inside.

“There’s a bonfire at Clint’s tomorrow night,” he said.  “Just a few people are gonna be there, nothing like the huge barn party he threw last time.  You and your friends should come.”

Steve almost automatically said yes of course, but then he remembered about his stupid homecoming at the stupid country club with his (not) stupid friends.  “I would but we have Homecoming tomorrow.  And I really can’t miss it.”

“Aww why, you gotta hot date?”  Bucky teased.

“Actually my date is stuck in London,” Steve replied snottily.

Bucky just shook his head.  “You rich people.”

Steve continued, ignoring Bucky’s snide comment.  “And besides I helped put the dance together so I have to be there and make everything runs smoothly.”

Bucky shook his head again.  “Whatever you say.”

“What?”  Steve almost snapped.

“Do you even want to go to your precious homecoming, where everyone’ll arrive in a limo and the gift bags include one thousand dollars and the deed to a private island in the Caribbean?”

Steve blushed but knew Bucky was just trying to get a rise out of him.  “It doesn’t matter, I have to be there.”

“Wow, that’s pretty sad.”  Bucky replied, his voice not hiding any harshness.

“What, that I follow through with my responsibilities?”  Steve snapped back.  He knew what Bucky was doing, but it wasn’t helping him keep a level head.

“No, that you do _everything_ that is expected of you, whether you want to or not.  You’re like a toy robot, programmed to please everyone.”  Bucky didn’t sound particularly mean, but his words stung. 

“Whatever,” Steve muttered and pulled his keys out.  He knew he was fleeing instead of fighting, but he had a long day okay?  “I have to go, thanks for a _fun_ night.”

“Oh come on Steve.”  Bucky complained.  “Don’t leave mad at me.”

Steve laughed without humor, his anger simmering right below the boiling point.  “Well don’t make assumptions about things you don’t know about.”

“Steve,” Bucky said in a gentle voice, but it registered as patronizing.  “You’re not that hard to read.  It’s like staring into the sun it’s that obvious, or like a hundred thousand car parked in a lot with rusty pickup trucks.”

Steve was so angry he couldn’t speak.  He wasn’t easy to read, he kept everything shoved down and compartmentalized.  He personified the Rogers’ family image of being polite and kind, the representation his parents had instilled in him for years.  Bucky doesn’t know shit, he has no _clue_ what Steve has to do.

Wait no, what Steve _wants_ to do.

Fuck, Bucky’s already in his head.

“Whatever, I’m outta here.”  Steve yanked open his door and quickly got inside, slamming it shut behind him.  He didn’t give Bucky the satisfaction of looking at him as he started his car and left, but as Steve pulled out of the lot he did glance in the review mirror to see Bucky standing there in the empty parking lot.  The sight left a sour feeling in Steve’s mouth and he turned his eyes back to the road, as if he couldn’t feel Bucky’s burning gaze as he drove away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize for this chapter being a week late, I had a lot of work to do last week for my class and other deadlines that were physically and emotionally draining me. It should not happen again, seeing how the semester is winding down for me - if anyone out there is gearing up for finals or papers or pretty much anything huge and important in your life, hang in there! You got this! I believe in you!


	8. Chapter 8

“You look really bored.”

Steve just ignored Sam’s obvious statement and stared down into his coke.  The floating ice cubes were able to capture his attention better than the homecoming dance currently going on.  And for once, Steve wished he had something a bit stronger to add to his drink – maybe it would make this miserable night more bearable.

He tried to force himself to appreciate the decorations or enjoy the spread the country club provided for them, but Steve just couldn’t do it.  Maybe it was because it was the second night in a row that he had to dress up, or maybe it was because Sharon wasn’t there to cut the tension with a sassy joke or whatever.  But Steve really knew it was his conversation with Bucky that left him in a bitter mood.

The conversation with Bucky in the coffee shop parking lot has been bouncing around Steve’s head all night, refusing to leave him alone.  And he wanted nothing more than to push the blame to Bucky, forget about the whole thing, and move on.

But then he’s just lying to himself.

Truth is, Steve is really just mad at himself.  Sure Bucky didn’t have to drop some harsh truth bombs last night, but he was 100% right on all of his assumptions. Steve is pretty Type-A - always wound up, religiously following his schedule, and making sure that he meets everyone’ s expectations.  And he’s fine with that.  It’s been working for him, so why try to fix it if it’s not broken.

The only thing Steve has a problem with is how he’s definitely obliterated any chance of getting together with Bucky.  Again.

“Okay, now you just look depressed.”

Steve met Sam’s concerned gaze with a shrug of his shoulders.  “‘M fine.” He mumbled.

Sam gave a short laugh.  “Yeah I don’t think so Cap.  C’mon, lay it on me.”

Steve always forgets how perceptive Sam can be when Sharon’s not around.  Usually it's a blessing, but he wishes now that his friend from across the pond could be here so Sam could stare at her with puppy-dog eyes while Steve could sit and blissfully pretend that everything is okay when it’s really not.

Okay, Steve needs to tone down the dramatics ASAP.

“Bucky and I got in an argument yesterday and I snapped at him - like over-the-top freak out.”

Sam inhaled sharply and winced.  “What happened, why did you snap at him?”

“He said the truth and I didn’t like it.”

“What truth?”

“That my life is sad because I do everything everyone asks of me.”

“Okay…”  Steve looked over and watched as Sam try to work through what Steve meant. When he realized Sam was getting nowhere Steve sighed.

“Okay it’s not as bad as it sounds.  I flew off the handle and yelled for no reason.”

“About time.” Sam snorted.  Steve just glared at his very unhelpful friend.  “Okay, be honest with me - did he make you feel really bad on purpose and you’re just downplaying it because it’s Bucky, or do you truly think you were overreacting?”

“No, I was overreacting.”  Steve answered without delay.  “Bucky even said he didn’t want me to leave if I was going to be upset.”

“Okay, but you still left upset?”

“Look, it’s really hard to explain and you won’t understand-”

“No, don’t do that Steve.”  Sam cut across whatever excuses Steve had prepared (and he really had some ready).  “You always shut down and never talk about what’s really on your mind, and maybe that’s also my fault for not pushing you to talk but that ends now.  So get out of your cave and tell me how you feel.”

“I can’t even explain it!”  Steve exclaimed, his voice discouraged.  “I’m pissed that Bucky called my life sad, angry that he would make such a rash judgement when he barely knows me, confused because he might be right but I like my life as it is, and hurt because maybe my life really is sad and I never knew and who knows what experiences I’ve missed out on while I’ve been trying to live up to my father’s expectations!”

Steve’s chest was heaving as he took in gulps of air upon finishing his unexpected but strangely therapeutic rant.  Sam’s calm expression hadn’t changed throughout the entirety of it and Steve was beginning to wish that he kept his mouth shut and blamed his bad mood on the decorations’ color scheme instead.

Steve opened his mouth to apologize for his tirade when Tony sauntered up to their table. 

“You guys wanna ditch this joint?”

The anxiety of his outburst went right out the window with Tony’s suggestion.  Is he insane?  They can’t just _leave_ the dance.  Steve was instrumental in coordinating the event for Pete’s sake!  And he’s 99% sure that he is to be named Homecoming King, and he _has_ to be here to accept his crown, and what would his parents say if they left?  So why would they leave?

The small voices in Steve’s head, responsible for keeping him on track, all had convincing points and Steve was just about to explain why they had to stay when Sam jumped in.  “Yeah, let’s leave.”

Okay this is an unexpected turn, but Steve just has to calmly explain his reasoning for staying.

“Are you nuts?” Steve stuttered out in confused rage (far from calm).  “We can’t leave!”

“Why not?”  Tony asked.  “And I swear to god if you’re more concerned with winning a plastic crown with fur lining I’ll punt you off a bridge myself.”

Steve snapped his mouth shut and blushed furiously.

“Where are we going?”  Sam asked as he loosened his bow tie until it hung messily around his neck.

“Barton’s got a small bonfire going at his place.  Pepper and Bruce will be there”

And Bucky.  The voices were now sounding the alarm telling Steve now was time to properly panic.

“No no, we can’t go there!”  Steve cried.  “Why can’t we just stay here and watch people dance and-”

“Slowly lose our will to live?”  Tony asked incredulously.  “Sounds tempting but I’m gonna have to pass.”

“Hey now you can apologize to Bucky, if he’ll be there.”  Sam added helpfully, which was really anything but that for Steve.

“He will.”  Steve muttered.  He started down at his drink, also wishing it was big enough to drown him so he wouldn’t have to go.

“Steve, you said you don’t know which high school experiences you’ve missed out on,” Sam pointed out, bringing Steve out of his daze.  “Leaving a school function and disappointing your parents is a great place to start.”

“But, but.”  Steve’s brain was whirring as he tried to think of move excuses.  The voices were running around madly trying to think of excuses.  But a traitorous thought was getting used to the idea of blowing this Popsicle stand.

Tony and Sam expectantly watching Steve did nothing to help, at least until he looked down at their tuxes.  “Wait, we don’t have any other clothes to wear, and we don’t have a ride back home.”

“Well I think we look pretty snazzy.”  Tony said smartly as he brushed the invisible dirt off his shoulder.  “And you know that I can arrange for a driver to get us back home.”  Steve just glanced hopelessly between his two friend’s smug faces and sighed, inwardly admitting defeat. 

They were gonna be the death of him, and they knew it.

“Beautiful, I’ll have the limo pulled out front.”

*****

Steve was grateful to see just a few cars in Clint’s driveway.  It’s not like he didn’t have fun at the last bash Clint threw, but last time he wasn’t arriving in a stretch-limo in his tuxedo.  He hoped that his friends wouldn’t say anything about their attire, but knowing them (mainly Clint and Natasha) they wouldn’t pass up a chance to make fun of Steve.

“Oh man, we got some fancy Wall St. men here tonight!”  Clint called out as the boys approached the fire.

“No Clint don’t be dumb, they’re here to debut their new Christmas album.”  Natasha corrected him with a sly smile.

Steve looked at his friends and just now realized they all wore Christmas-y colors.  His face turned bright red, matching the red bowtie he had on.

“Well I think we look marvelous.”  Tony drawled, running a hand down his gold tie and smirking.  Steve knew Tony could be wearing anything and he’d be fine as long as he was basking in the attention of others.  But Sam just aggressively loosened his green bowtie and grabbed the beer from Clint’s outstretched hand eagerly.

Steve declined the beer that Clint offered him and found an empty spot by the bonfire. True to Tony’s word there were only a handful of people here, and Steve noticed Bruce and Pepper talking to each other animatedly, possibly about saving the rainforests or the environment.  Tony was quickly making his way over to the pair, and Steve watched Bruce enthusiastically greeted Tony while Pepper giving him a thin smile.

Steve slowly scanned the people around him.  There were a few other LeHigh students that Steve knew but not well enough to talk to, which left him staring into the glowing embers and cataloging the colors.  Bright orange flames flickered into the air, crackling and releasing sparks that soared even higher before extinguishing against the dark night sky.  The flames licked and warped around the shape of the logs, the colors fading into deep reddish orange.  The burning wood was slowing transforming into the sooty black charred sticks and logs that scattered around the outskirts of the coals, with the grey ashes blanketing the fire pit ground.  The bedazzling view emitted a cozy heat that cut across the sharp cold October night, and Steve felt his tense posture slacken and finally relax after what has felt like a taxing few days.  He closed his eyes, letting the heat from the fire warm his bones and calm his mind.

“I thought you had Homecoming.”

Steve’s eyes snapped open and he looked to the source of the noise, finding Bucky sitting on his left.  He had his hair tied back in a small bun and was holding a beer in his hand.  Steve didn’t even hear him approach he was so caught up in winding down.  Or Bucky just has super-secret assassin powers that he chooses to use for good.

Steve asked him if that was the case, and it coaxed a small smile out of Bucky.  “Try telling that to my ma, she thinks the noise I make when I come home at night could wake the dead.  Never mind that neither she nor my dad can hear the TV until the sound is blasting out of the speakers.”

Steve laughed and Bucky’s smile grew.  Steve could see the fire reflecting in his eyes, the flames dancing and tiny sparks spiraling upwards.  Steve only held his gaze for a minute before looking away, the angry flames thrashing reminding him of their previous conversation that ended on a rather unpleasant note.  He frowned and looked back to the fire.

“Are you still mad at me?”  Bucky asked after a quick moment of silence.  His voice was quiet and even, but held a faint hint of something that sounded an awful lot like anxiety.  And just the thought that Bucky was possibly blaming himself (again) for a conversation that derailed because of Steve (yet again) felt like a slap to the face.

“Of course not, Bucky.”  Steve turned back and found Bucky looking so worried and vulnerable that it was another, much harsher, slap to the face.  “I’m the one who owes you an apology.”

“I’m the one who pushed you.  If I’d backed off you wouldn’t have gotten mad.”  Bucky’s mumbled excuses were first unneeded, and second made him sound like a little boy.  But not because they were immature or ridiculous, but because he sounded so sincere and so sure that he was in the wrong and even in the short self-blaming Bucky seemed resigned and expecting a stern scolding.  He even ducked his head and avoided Steve’s gaze, as if Steve would lash out if Bucky even dared to meet his eyes.

 “Bucky no.”  Steve shook his head firmly and tried to catch Bucky’s eyes.  “We were having a nice conversation about my responsibilities and you had just mentioned some things that I didn’t want to hear.  They were the truth, and sometimes it’s hard for people to hear the truth.”  Steve paused as Bucky continued to look down at the ground, the forgotten beer held in his hand loosely.  Steve sighed, his own mood worsening in Bucky’s presence.  “Look, my life is strange to a lot of people, I get that.  And I could either be like Tony, an egotistical, self-centered maniac who has absolutely no relationship with his parents, or Sam who is scared of his own grandma to do anything outlandish.  I found my spot right in the middle, the role that fits me just right, and I’m happy here.”

Bucky was now giving Steve his full attention, the sad look on his face gone.  Instead he was regarding Steve curiously, having no shame in flat-out studying Steve.

“You’re staring,” Steve said after a few beats of silence.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded in agreement.  “I am.  I guess I’m just…confused.”  His head tilted to the side, and paired with the inquisitive gazing it was kind of adorable and Steve worked hard to restrain from mentioning it.

“It’s just,” Bucky continued hesitantly.  “I honestly can’t see any appeal of your…role I guess.  It just seems really unfulfilling.”

“It may to you,” Steve countered quickly.  He forced himself to stay relaxed as he spoke back up.  “It’s worked for me so far.”

“But that’s the thing, it’s _worked_ for you.”  Bucky replied forcefully.  His intense voice startled Steve slightly but he didn’t stop Bucky and he didn’t look like he was going to let Steve interrupt him anyway.  “Just because something has worked for you doesn’t mean it makes you happy.  There must’ve been something that you wanted to do in your life but you felt like you couldn’t because it wouldn’t make your parents happy, am I right?”

Steve didn’t answer him, but his mind immediately went to painting.  How the smell of new paint on a canvas would fill him with a pleasure that he couldn’t find anywhere else, or the way that a few hundred strokes could bend and twist to look aesthetically pleasing, and it was all because of Steve knew where to place each line and which color would look right or wrong.  And the last immense feeling of accomplishment and pride he felt when he finished a painting and knew that it was fantastic. 

Steve remembered the eagerness to show his parents what he _made_ , the desire to show off what he _created_ and the excitement in hearing their praise for their only son’s accomplishment had only grown and grown until the nail-biting final reveal.  Only to crash and burn when his father shooed him from his office with an impatient wave of his hand, and his mother just patting his head while she walked by without even looking at his art.

The heartbreaking, soul crushing dejectedness of it all was what Steve remembered most. 

But in a close second finally came years later, when Steve threw his first touchdown pass and looked up to the stands to see his dad clapping and nodding his head.  The acceptance and satisfaction on his father’s face was all that Steve had wanted, and it only took Steve forever to realize it came with a price – his own happiness.

Steve swallowed the unexpected and unwelcomed lump in his throat, startled at his own revelation.  The responsible voices in his head noticed his unusual train of thought and quickly diverted him to consider the consequences of bearing his heart to Bucky and why it was a terrible terrible idea.

So Steve just stared into the fire.  “Nope.”  He said in a hard voice, finally answering Bucky’s question after a lengthy pause.

“I don’t believe that for a second.”  Bucky replied easily.  “I could tell you were just on an intense thought train but the programmed robot inside you is telling you to jump ship.”

God, can Bucky read his mind or something?  “Isn’t it against the rules to use two different transportation analogies in one sentence?”

Bucky burst out laughing, the sound attracting the attention of others and even causing Steve to grin.  But whether it was in harmony with Bucky’s merriment or how he successfully moved the conversation to pleasanter topics he’d never tell.

“Can you lovebirds keep it down over there?”  Tony called across the fire.  Steve saw him sitting with just Pepper now, the girl not annoyed by their interruption unlike Tony.

“Sorry Stark,” Bucky called back.  “Would you believe it if I said Steve is the one cracking the jokes?”

“Not for a second.”  Was Tony’s curt reply before turning his attention back to Pepper.  But she just shook her head and surprisingly didn’t look put out by Tony’s teasing.

Bucky laughed again before falling silent.  His head tilted back and he took a deep breath in.  Steve watched unabashedly as Bucky opened his eyes to watch the night sky.  It reminded Steve of the last time he was at Clint’s, and how he found Bucky in the field doing the same thing as he was now.  Steve would never grow tired of taking in Bucky’s handsome looks, or the serene expression he seemed to having when observing the night sky.

That dangerous line of thinking sent the voices in Steve’s head in a tizzy, but the traitorous thought shoved the voices away and let Steve think in extremes for once.

“You’re staring again.”  Bucky’s voice didn’t embarrass Steve this time, only bringing a soft smile to his face.

“Yeah, I am.”  Steve said softly before tearing his gaze away from Bucky to stare up at the cosmos.

*****

Steve was still chortling as he walked into his house Sunday night.  He was just coming back from a tutoring session with Bucky, but it kind of derailed into a conversation about the chickens that his mother is “obsessed with.”

“So me and Becca had to wave our arms to get this one chicken to go right to Dave, and the idiot had the _one_ job to not let the chicken get by, and he fucking did!  God my mom was furious, we had spent _an hour_ getting that stupid bird to one spot and Becca’s husband couldn’t grab it because ‘he’s allergic to birds.’  Who the fuck’s allergic to birds?!”

Steve had been bent over the table laughing, tears running down his face and his face bright red.  But he had never felt happier.  He never got a second to catch his breath, as Bucky launched into another story about his mom buying cable knit scarves for all twelve of her chickens, to her concern about how they would adjust to the new yard when his family moved, and finally to how he found her mom yelling at the sky after she saw a hawk carry off one of her chickens.

His spot-on and dedicated re-enactment in the café had really sent Steve over the edge (“You fucking bastard, bring her back she was my favorite – Sally noooo!”).  And now as Steve set his shoes on the rack in the closet, the sight of Bucky on his knees shouting at the ceiling will be one of the best sights Steve will ever see.

He walked down the hallway and was about the climb the stairs to his room when his name being called from his father’s office stopped him in his tracks.

Uh oh.

There was probably nothing to worry about.  There was hopefully nothing to worry about.

Steve scanned through his brain to think of what his father could be upset about as he quickly made his way into the room.  But Bucky’s despairing scream and his collapse into giggles and his smile and his eyes were all Steve could think of.

Joseph Rogers was sat behind his desk in a modern high back office chair.  The majority of the Rogers’ house was designed with a modern colonial theme in mind, Joseph was adamant on keeping his home office sleek and modern.  His glass desk held a mess of papers, all looking important, and his computer (the latest model) held additional blueprints that also looked important.

Which for Steve, something looking important meant ‘Hands off, don’t fucking touch it.’

Swallowing his sudden fear Steve stepped further into the office.  “Yes father?”  His tone was even and courteous, making sure to slightly bow his head in obedience. 

“I heard from Headmaster Fury that you were awarded Homecoming King last night.”  Joseph didn’t look up at Steve, keeping his gaze on the papers scattered around his desk – a slight insult to Steve, knowing that his father does this to people to let them know that his work is more important at the moment instead of a conversation with whatever sucker stands in front of Joseph Rogers’ desk.

But right now Steve is that sucker, and while this technique is old and frequently used the slight hurt it causes him is felt nonetheless.

Joseph continued speaking in his serious, albeit bored voice.  “However I was also notified that you missed the crowning due to your sudden absence at the dance.”

Crap.  Double-crap.

Steve had no idea he won the Homecoming King title, not even bothering to check in with anyone to see if there had been anything important to know about.  Instead of trying to help Steve work his way through this mess, the voices in his head just sat back and repeated ‘I told you so.’  Steve just stood silently, his ramrod straight posture putting a slight strain on his back but he didn’t dare break it.  It would just be another reason for Joseph to be disappointed.

And he looked disappointed.  Or bored.  Or busy.  Steve was having a hard time getting a read on his father, which was dangerous because he wasn’t sure what kind of punishment would be doled out.

Of course his father had never hit him (although if Steve were to admit it he was nervous a few times).  But the punishment came in forcing Steve to work at the office completing mundane tasks such as filing, making copies, data entry – the kind of jobs that sucked the life out of a person slowly and painfully.  Steve worked there one summer and was nearly bored to tears each day, and he vowed to never let himself do anything to force him back at that dull and dreadful place.

Joseph let out a sigh and looked up to his only son.  Steve held his own breath, waiting for whatever scolding his father had in store for him.

“Steven, I understand that it must’ve been hard for you to go to the dance without Sharon there.  I know how much you were looking forward to it.”

Wait, what?

“But if you cannot quit on your responsibilities.  I didn’t get to be where I am today because I backed out of something I said I’d do.  In the future I need you to think about what your actions will do to you and your reputation, and if you commit to something you have to see that through.  Are we clear?”

Steve paused for a minute, starting when he realized his father was waiting for a response. 

The father who actually didn’t yell at him for once.

“Yes, of course father.  I apologize.”  Steve tried to look contrite, and it must’ve worked because Joseph nodded in approval and went back to his papers.

“Please close the door on your way out.”  AKA, get the fuck out and stay out.

But Steve hastened to leave his father’s office and paused before heading back upstairs.  The adrenaline of expecting a stern lecture was wearing off, leaving Steve exhausted and wondering what the heck just happened.

Don’t get him wrong though, he was relieved it was a speech that he’s heard over and over and has been hammered into his skull.  And Steve will take it and try not to question it anymore, because his father also told him to never question what you get and keep moving forward and on track.

And on that note, Steve walked up to his room to get started on his homework before dinner.

The voices hummed in approval.

*****

_Steve likes the blue-grey water._

_He knows it’s not like normal ocean water, but that’s okay.  It’s gorgeous and runs over his hands like smooth oil.  And swimming is no problem – if anything Steve cuts through the still surface with ease._

_A loud thunderclap brings Steve to attention.  He looks over his shoulder and sees pitch black clouds with lightning striking out, searching for victims to scorch._

_Steve quickly turns back forward and sees land.  He sees his house and makes way for the sanctuary._

_But the water is pulling him back, urging him towards the storm.  Steve fights it tooth and nail and finally flops onto the shore.  Trying to catch his breath he looks back out to the ocean and sees the black clouds swirling in the air, the lightning continuing to strike erratically._

_Steve feels safe and secure on the island, but he finds himself wondering what the storm holds._

Steve jerks awake, arms wrapped around a pillow.  He rubs his eyes and checks his clock – 3:19 A.M.  He rolls back over and tries to fall back asleep but the curiosity of the storm in his dream keeps him up, and Steve thinks about what the storm means for him, and what the storm really holds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! Thanks for the love from Chapter 7!


	9. Chapter 9

Steve was tired.

Returning home late from a dinner party at the Wilson’s feeling completely worn out was not how Steve had wanted his Thursday night to go, but he didn’t really have a choice in the matter.  Steve had been dragged to dinner parties at least once a week since his father obtained a higher position in the company and now making painfully awkward small talk with other SteelCorp executives was part of Steve’s norm.

It hadn’t always felt like a chore to Steve, but it was now slowly becoming a pestering annoyance that he really didn’t care for anymore.

But there was no way Steve would’ve been able to wriggle out of this dinner, seeing how Grandma Wilson had flown in from southern Florida to celebrate her birthday with a “surprise” party (planned and executed by her) with her family and her family’s friends and her family’s co-workers.

It was another dinner where fresh-faced employees would try to rub elbows with Mr. Rogers or Mr. Stark or shower the wives with adoring compliments about their beautiful dresses and even try to talk football with Steve and his friends.

It was exhausting.

It didn’t get better as the night went on, especially when Steve’s phone had started ringing when Sam was giving his grandma a wonderful speech for her birthday.  And it certainly didn’t help that the embarrassment rendered his motions clumsy and it took a minute before Steve was able to silence his phone from the brisk and unyielding pings coming from his phone. 

Sam’s murderous glare, paired with the disappointed looks from his father and mother and the disdainful stare from Grandma Wilson made Steve want to shrivel in his seat until he was no bigger than a mouse, before scurrying off to never be heard from again.  And while Sam had started his speech back up Steve took a quick peek at his phone to find a missed call and 18 unread messages from Bucky ( _oh good lord Buck_ , Steve thought with an inward eye roll).

Once Steve had told Bucky that he had a dinner party to go to the night before his paper was due, Bucky almost had a dramatic meltdown in the middle of the café where they had been working.  And while he did flop down onto the table and bemoan into his open textbook, Steve had assured him that he had planned to have his paper completed, edited and printed well before the due date.

Clearly Bucky had either forgotten that Steve was busy tonight or had been freaking out about the state of his paper, but Steve was unable to do anything until the party finished and he was back home.

Which now he finally was, as he loosened his tie before trudging up the stairs to his bedroom.  He sent his parents a soft good night (which went ignored, showing how mad they still were about the phone mishap at dinner), went in his room and quietly shut the door before flopping onto his bed still dressed.  He reveled in the silence for a beat, before his phone started ringing again.

Steve couldn’t even be annoyed or upset that it was Bucky calling, happy to have a conversation with someone normal to detox from his night.

“Hello?”

“ _Steven James Rogers where have you been all night?  I’ve called you and texted you and you didn’t return any of my messages!”_

“Bucky, my middle name isn’t James its Grant.”

_“You see?? That’s how upset I am!”_

Steve rolled his eyes, knowing that Bucky wouldn’t see but also not really that annoyed with him.  “Okay well I’m here now, what’s the emergency?”

“ _I need you to read my paper and tell me it’s good again._ ”

“Bucky, I’ve looked over it five times since you finalized it.  I think it’s gonna be okay.”

“ _Yeah well that was before I made more changes tonight so I need you to read it.  I already sent it to your email._ ”

Steve glanced at his laptop as he continued to lie down on his bed.  His whole body was telling him to just stay down and get some sleep and the responsible voices reminding him that his 5AM wake-up is inching closer with each minute.  But Steve ignored those thoughts and pulled himself from his bed and over to his desk.

“Okay give me a second to open the file.”

“ _No problem.  Did you have fun at dinner tonight?”_

“Eh, it was OK,” Steve said thoughtfully.  “Well except for the part where my phone went off and Sam’s grandma sent me the death glare.”

“ _Rogers are you saying you’re scared of a frail old lady?_ ”

“Hey I’m not the only one!  Sam is terrified of his own grandma!  He was practically bullied into putting together a speech for her.”

“ _Good lord, is that what you rich people do at parties?_   _Besides swimming in pools of gold and soaking in hot tubs filled with champagne?_ ”

“Well we wanted to use the hot tub but the Wilsons were having it cleaned out.”

Bucky’s laugh came down the line and brought a smile to Steve’s face.  It was oddly satisfying to tease about his family’s wealth with Bucky.  At first it was awkward and Steve always sought to change the topic as quick as he could but for some reason that Steve couldn’t explain it became easier to joke.  Maybe it’s because Steve had never become fully comfortable with the amount of money his family had, and Bucky clearly thinks it’s an insane amount too (judging by the stereotypical rich-people jokes).  So it’s nice and somewhat therapeutic to joke with Bucky about it, being able to talk to someone who won’t either have no idea what he’s talking about or judge Steve for complaining about it. 

“Okay I’m pulling up the file now,” Steve said to Bucky as he opened the document from his email.  “Just give me a few minutes to read it over and see what edits you made.”

“ _No problem, Captain._ ”

Instead of hanging up Bucky remained on the line and judging by the background noise on his end Steve could guess that Bucky was sneaking out to his roof to smoke a cigarette.

“Those things will kill you,” Steve murmured absentmindedly as he scanned the essay.

“ _Dude do you have eyes on me or something?!  How did you know I was going out for a smoke?_ ”

“Since you told me that you go out on your roof to smoke and I heard your window slide open, which definitely means your parents did too.”

Bucky groaned audibly and Steve smirked when the sound of a window slamming shut in exasperation reached his ears.  He even laughed when Bucky muttered something along the lines of “goody-two shoe boy scout.”

“I never was a boy scout.” Steve reminded him as he read the last page.  “And I finished reading, did you really make any changes?”

“ _Yeah of course!_ ”

“Oh really, where?”

A beat of silence confirmed Steve’s suspicions, but instead of getting mad he found it kind of adorable.

“Bucky, why did you have me check your paper again?”

“ _Ugh, I don’t know._ ”  Bucky sounded frustrated and embarrassed at the same time.  “ _I’m just panicking because this is the first school assignment that I’ve really cared about and I really want to do a good job and make you proud.”_   His voice trailed off at the end and Steve was glad Bucky wasn’t in the room so he wouldn’t see him grinning like an idiot.

“Awww that’s so sweet.”  Steve elected to tease Bucky, knowing full well that he would clap back with a snippy retort.  But when he heard embarrassed sputtering instead of vehement denials Steve’s heart did a double back flip and had to focus on his computer before blurting out something embarrassing.

“Well anyway,” Steve continued after it was apparent that Bucky wasn’t going to speak up.  “Your paper looks great.  I can’t see why you shouldn’t get full marks on it.”

“ _Don’t go getting my expectations up now, Rogers_ ,” Bucky said down the line.

“I’m serious!  This is a well-written paper with proper evidence that ties to important discussion points.”

“ _Have I mentioned how much of a nerd you are?_ ”

“I don’t think you told me today…”

Bucky’s laugh was soft and if Steve closed his eyes he could imagine Bucky chuckling in his ear while holding him close and running his hands all over-

“ _You know we have to celebrate tomorrow right?_ ”

Steve jerked himself from his inappropriate (but tantalizing) thoughts.  “Uh, celebrate?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Bucky’s scoff was even clearer than the laugh and Steve’s razor-thin focus was shredded even slimmer.  But he remained aware enough to understand Bucky say “ _You’ve helped me with my paper for like a month, and we need to party._ ”

“I don’t party on Friday night, I have -”

“ _Yeah, yeah football I know_ ,” Bucky replied knowingly.  Steve cringed at his own dismissal at Bucky’s request, but Bucky didn’t sound too annoyed with him.

Before Steve could get caught up in worrying if Bucky was upset with him, the other teen’s voice cried out.  “ _Aha, I got it!  Meet me tomorrow at the café.  Drive your Jeep._ ”

“What are we doing?”

“ _It’s a surprise_.”  Bucky’s voice sounded gleeful before he quickly hung up the phone.

*****

Steve really wasn’t sure what to expect for tonight’s surprise.  He tried to get some answers out of his friend, but Bucky wasn’t spilling any secrets.  He did assure Steve that they wouldn’t be out late and that he would be bringing food and drinks.  And yes there would be non-alcoholic drinks.  (Sent along with an eye-roll emoji that left Steve smiling during his French Lit class.)

The day dragged on for Steve, and he tried not to think about the implications of tonight’s…

Yeah Steve had no idea what tonight was.

A date? Friends hanging out?  Just two guys who are having a good time?

(Sam snickered at the last idea and Steve shot his friend a dirty look before descending into full panic mode.)

As Bucky mentioned in their phone call, they had been talking together for a whole month.  Steve had decided, after a rocky start to their relationship, to keep things platonic and not try to take it to another level, for his own sake and to keep in line with the unofficial Code of Tutors to never hook up with a student (which many tutors ignored but that conversation was for neither here nor there.)  But now that the paper was out of the way Steve didn’t have any obligation to Bucky, and Bucky didn’t have any reason to continue to talk to Steve.

And why would he?  They are almost polar opposites – Bucky being the extroverted and sly country boy while Steve is the introverted and wary prep student.  The only thing that they had in common was this history paper assigned to Bucky, and now that it was gone Steve had to admit he was worried Bucky would drop him as a friend.

And yet, Bucky insisted on celebrating the end of his paper and was bringing food and drinks to their celebration.  Someone who didn’t want Steve as a friend wouldn’t do that right?

Scenarios bounced around Steve’s head for a majority of the day and he eventually had to partake in an impromptu yoga-session at home before meeting Bucky just to calm his nerves.

(And why should he be nervous? This isn’t a date, right? Is it?)

Steve’s less-that-ostentatious-but-second-vehicle pulled into the café lot just before 6PM and he put the Jeep in park right by the front door.  Through the glass windows he saw Bucky holding a treat bag in one hand and a cup carrier filled with four drinks in another.  His backpack was slung on his shoulders and he stood casually as he spoke with Clint working behind the counter.  He had on yet another flannel, another old band tee, another pair of skinny jeans and his converse sneakers, with his hair pulled back into another small bun.

Steve caught his reflection in the rearview mirror and cursed how obvious his thoughts played out on his face.

Bucky turned to the window and grinned.  He quickly walked to the exit, calling back to Clint.  Clint waved his hand in good bye, also waving to Steve with a smile.  Steve nodded back just as Bucky opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Stevie my boy, you’re looking at a free man!”

Steve refrained from rolling his eyes but sent his friend a look.  “You do know that it’s only October, and you still have a full year of school?”

Bucky send him a faux-wounded look.  “Why d’you gotta cut my wings man?”  Steve’s snort broke through the fake hurt and Bucky grinned.  “Are you ready for the adventure?”

“That depends on whether or not you can finally tell me where we’re going.”

Bucky’s grin deepened and he just set the pastry bag by his feet before buckling up.  “I’ll give you directions, but no telling until we get there.”

“Is this a hostage situation?”

“Of course not!”  When Steve gave him a look, Bucky gestured to the food and drinks.  “I would never bring a prisoner delicious baked goods.”

Steve just laughed and tried not to notice Bucky grinning as he pulled out of the parking lot and began the drive to their destination.  The hour drive seemed short thanks to Bucky’s continuous commentary.  Steve had to focus on the road but that didn’t mean he couldn’t marvel at how Bucky’s voice picked up speed when he got really excited about something, or the constant gesturing visible from the corner of Steve’s eye.  Before he knew it they were well away from Suburbia and venturing deep into wooded areas.

It didn’t cross Steve’s mind that they could be trespassing on private property until Bucky told him to turn down a deserted dirt path barely visible from road.  He tried to shake off the image of a reclusive hermit sitting on his front porch waiting for intruders to shoot first and ask questions later.

“We’re not doing anything illegal tonight are we?”  Steve asked as he forced himself to keep calm and drive on.

“Nah, holding cells crowd up on the weekends and it’s not a fun time.”

“Speaking from experience?” Steve asked teasingly and curiously.  But Bucky just smirked and shook his head.

Ignoring the question he pointed to a small gravel parking lot just ahead.  “You can park here, we’ll have to hoof it the rest of the way.”

Steve just nodded, relief flooding his brain as he took in the state park signs leading the way to a marked trail.  He put the Jeep in park, turned it off and turned to Bucky expectantly.  “Is this the part where you bind and gag me?”

“Oh is that what you’re into Stevie?” Bucky asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.  Completely distracted by the suggestive face Bucky was giving Steve didn’t answer right away, which caused the brunet to burst into laughter.

“Hey, you’re the one who brought us to make out point!” Steve tried to justify over Bucky’s giggles.  Steve huffed and got out of the Jeep, the slam of the door in no way muffling the loud snorting sounds Bucky was making.  After a few minutes he finally exited the jeep still chuckling to himself.

“Okay Bad Boy, I’m gonna need a hand if we want to make it up to the top of the hill.”  Steve made his way over to Bucky’s door and grabbed the pastry bag from him.  He went to grab the coffee and Bucky’s backpack but was waved away by his friend.  Once they were finally geared up and the Jeep securely locked Bucky led Steve towards the well-worn path.  It wasn’t a steep slope up or an exhausting walk, but rather a nice and pleasant stroll.  Bucky continued to chat and kept up a steady stream of conversation, and soon enough they were standing in a cleared field with some picnic tables and grills scattered around.

“Where are we?” Steve asked as Bucky walked up to one of the picnic tables and set down the coffee.

“Lee Park.  This is where my family and Natasha’s family would have our summer parties, and I think we had Rebecca’s grad party here too.  It’s one of the only park in our area where you can stay after sun down.”  He pulled out a blanket, a lantern and a few small pillows.

Steve’s heart jumped in his chest.  But he stayed cool and collected while he set down the pastries on the bench.

He may or may not have missed the bench completely and dropped the bag on to the ground.

Fortunately Bucky was preoccupied with laying the blanket on the table so he missed Steve cursing to himself and stooping down quickly to pick up the paper bag.  And it was just dark enough that he didn’t see Steve’s face turn bright red.

Steve watched Bucky turn on the lantern (battery powered), smooth out the blanket and arrange the pillows just so before climbing on the table himself and sitting cross-legged.  He reached for the coffees and looked around for the pastry bag before noticing Steve standing awkwardly off to the side.

“Well come on up here,” he said heartily, patting the space next to him.

Right next to him.  Very close next to him.

Steve didn’t need to be told twice.

After he climbed on the table (without falling off thank god) Bucky turned to him with an excited smile.

“Okay, gimme those desserts because Clint made a raspberry cream turnover and I call dibs.”

Steve wordlessly handed the bag over, still unsure of what was going on.  And Bucky wasn’t providing much information, as he happily chomped down on his sweet treat.

“Uh, Bucky?”

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot!”  Bucky reached down and pulled his phone out and tapped a few times before gentle and quiet music played from his phones, a soft piano tune that was able to relax the tense muscles in Steve’s shoulders and back.

“Better, right?”

Steve just looked at Bucky.  “It’s nice, but I still don’t know what we’re doing here.”

His friend just rolled his eyes and swallowed another bite of food.  “We’re here for _that,_ ” he said looking up.  Steve followed his gaze and felt his jaw drop.

The night sky was pitch black but it provided the perfect background for the stars that seemed to glitter and glow.  It was phenomenal, the sight so beautiful and awe-inspiring that it caused Steve’s chest to tighten.  Not out of fear or anxiety but like the universe was giving him a tight hug, holding him close.  Steve took a few deep breaths, his eyes never leaving the sky.  There were a few constellations sticking out and there were a few mysterious shapes that boasted brighter masses of light.  The stars were _everywhere_ , seeming to go on and on.  Which Steve knows that space is infinite and the stars may as well go on forever, but just getting a tiny glimpse into the cosmic world and seeing this splendor right now was nothing short of amazing.

Steve turned to Bucky and saw a quirky smile on his face, his handsome features glowed only by the small lantern light.

“Bucky, this is…” Steve just couldn’t find the words to explain how deep and meaningful this was.  It was just stars for Christ’s sake, it’s not like Steve doesn’t know they exist.  But seeing them here with Bucky was cathartic and exhilarating.

“My mom showed me this place years ago.  She put me, Rebecca and Natasha in the car, drove all the way out here, bundled us up and gave us steaming cups of hot cocoa.  And we would just stare at the night sky for hours.  Or at least I did, I remember Rebecca falling asleep and snoring.”

Steve chuckled softly before his stomach gave a small gurgle of annoyance.  Bucky held the pastry bag out with a knowing smile and Steve reached in and grabbed a blueberry muffin.  The first bite was heavenly, the blueberries adding the perfect amount of sweetness, the crumbly texture just right, and a hint of lemon to leave a delightfully subtle tartness on his tongue.  Steve closed his eyes and gave a sigh, reveling in the tasty flavor explosion happening in mouth while ignoring the responsible voices in his head chastising him for his childish behavior.  When he opened his eyes Bucky was grinning and holding out a coffee for Steve to try.

But now he was apprehensive.  “I don’t know, I usually stick to my coffee with cream.”

“Well there’s always a first for everything,” Bucky countered, shoving the drinks closer to his face.  Steve relented, grabbing the smaller cup and taking a tentative sip.  Surprisingly it wasn’t a sickeningly sweet concoction of syrups that he drank, but a plain coffee taste that was strong and smooth and rich.

“Okay, what is _this_?” Steve asked his focus directed solely on the cup as he took another, larger sip.  It was just as a good as the first, maybe even better.

“It’s an Americano.  It’s kind of like coffee but with espresso and hot water instead of brewed coffee.”

“It’s _fantastic_.”  And it really was.  Steve was sucking down the hot drink faster than he thought he could, unable to get enough of the delectable and delicious liquid.

Bucky smirked.  “I thought you would like it, and I got it in decaf for you because I know you’d be up all night if you drank caffeine -”

“After four o’clock.” Steve finished, impressed.  He didn’t think Bucky would remember a conversation they had during one of their tutoring session weeks ago, but he was touched that he did.  “Thank you.”

Bucky shrugged the grateful appreciation off, pulling out a croissant instead.  “There’s a cinnamon roll left for you, and a cup of herbal tea for your second drink.  The tea bag is in the pastry bag so you can steep it however strong you’d like.”

Yet again Steve is caught off guard by how much Bucky remembered from their conversations.  And not only that, but the thought and detail he’d put into this night.  He brought Steve to a place that meant something to him and showered him with delicious baked goods and coffees tailored to his needs.  Steve honestly couldn’t remember the last time someone went to so much effort just for him, and the thought left him feeling warm and fuzzy inside.  But instead of mentioning how much it meant to Bucky, and in the process probably embarrass himself to next Sunday, he polished off his Americano and returned his gaze back to the sky.

“Here,” Steve turned back to see Bucky lying down on the table, his head resting on one pillow.  “You’ll get a better view of the stars from here.”

Steve swallowed but hastily made his way down, laying his head on the other pillow and stretching his legs down.  It was just long enough to keep his feet from dangling off and the blanket helped cushion his body from the wooden table beneath.  His pulse was racing, his mouth dry and he laid there rigid and tense.  It had nothing to do with the under-stuffed pillow under his head or the hard surface on which he was laying on.  But more to keep to his side of the table and not brush Bucky’s hand with his own.  He took a deep breath and focused his attention on the stars and music, an even softer tune filled with deep and rich sounds of a cello paired with the twinkling and soft bells.  It seemed to work as Steve felt his shoulders unclench, heartrate decrease and eyelids grow heavy.

“I’ve been coming here for years,” Bucky said after a few minutes of silence.  “Even after my family moved away, I would ask my mom to take me up here during our summer visits.”  His voice was soft and content, sounding so relaxed and peaceful.  “And after Rebecca got her license I had to beg her to bring me up.  Sometimes she’d stay, sometimes she’d drop me off and bring me back home at 3AM.”

“That sounds kind of lonely,” Steve noted quietly. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Bucky replied, his voice still soft.  Steve kept his eyes on the sky so he couldn’t tell if Bucky was sad or not.  “It was just nice to come up here and get away when things got crazy.”

Steve didn’t say anything for a bit, wondering what had gotten so crazy in Bucky’s life to make him want to escape to the woods.  With a view like this, it couldn’t have been much but it wasn’t like Steve could ask him straight up.  He had some tact for Christ’s sake.

“Was moving back hard for you?”  He asked casually, sticking to safe questions and hoping it didn’t sound like he was snooping around too much.

“Not really,” Bucky answered.  He paused before continuing in a more subdued tone.  “I hated my school, and I didn’t really have any friends.  I was miserable.”

His voice had trailed off in a whisper and Steve’s own heart hurt to hear the subtle dejectedness in his voice.  “I’m sorry,” Steve whispered back.

“It’s not your fault.”  Bucky’s voice was quiet, causing Steve to look away from the stars and down to his friend’s vulnerable face.  Even in profile he could see glimpses of a sad and lonely boy.

“It still sucks.”  Steve replied. 

“Yeah, but my parents were really good about it.  They didn’t mind moving back and everything.”

 “I thought you said you moved back because your dad got a job offer closer to here.”

“Uh, yeah.  That’s what I meant.”  Bucky quickly replied, his voice tight.  He clamped right up and Steve saw the tenseness in his shoulders.  He was clearly uncomfortable and Steve didn’t want to push him to talk about it further, but he still a little confused about the situation. 

“I went to a different elementary school when I was younger, and I was really scrawny and tiny.”  Steve really had no idea what to say, but Bucky looked so pathetic that Steve would do anything to make him feel better.  “People picked on me all the time even though I didn’t do anything to them.  I was an easy target I suppose.”

Bucky was now looking at Steve, his attention focused on Steve as he retold a time that not many people know about.

“I tried to stand up for myself, and I did a lot.  I don’t like bullies.  But sometimes you so tired that you can’t do anything and you just have to give up and give in.”

“I’m sorry.”  Bucky sounded sincere, the voice of someone who not only feels bad for what Steve went through but can really understand the feeling of worthlessness.

Steve nodded.  “I was lucky though.  I met Tony in the fifth grade, and he was an annoying brat but we had strength in numbers then.”  Steve felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, remembering the spunky duo fending off bullies at lunch or in the hallway.  “And the next year my parents enrolled me at S.H.I.E.L.D. with Tony, and I never had a problem again.”

Bucky nodded, eyes not leaving Steve’s face.  They laid in silence, another mournful track successfully bringing the mood down in the dumps.  He must’ve realized it too, because he quickly smiled and he spoke up in a teasing tone.  “Do you mean you weren’t able to bore the bullies away with your knowledge of World War Two history and love for color coded schedules?”

Steve laughed and Bucky smiled with him.  The lantern illuminated his face, the warm light enhancing his striking features.  The song changed to some ballad, and they listened to the music and the singer crooning on about her love.  Steve may have felt uncomfortable, but Bucky’s lazy smile and soft eyes left a warm feeling in Steve’s heart.

He was close enough to count the few freckles scattered across Bucky’s cheeks, see the separate strands of hair casually pulled, and of course be enraptured by his eyes, which didn’t seem to dull even in the low light.  Bucky was beautiful, and tonight only proved that his soul was just as enchanting, and much more kind, generous and thoughtful.

He knew could reach out and set his hand on Bucky’s face and caress the soft skin.  He knew he could pull Bucky in close and kiss his lips softly and feel the soft breath on his own face.

But Steve didn’t, because as soon as those thoughts came into his head the responsible voices screamed at him to abort and really think about what he was doing and how this would affect his life and _what would his parents say?_

Steve flinched, and tried not to let the crushing disappointment reach his face as he clenched his fists and kept them close to his side. 

What was he thinking?  He couldn’t just reach out and touch Bucky, let alone do it without his permission.  Bucky probably didn’t even like him like that.  Yeah, he definitely didn’t like Steve like that.  They were just friends and nothing more

The responsible voices were nodding in agreement, relieved to see his train of thought derail from its possible detrimental path.  And even though it left Steve miserable, he knew it was the right thing to do.

Steve mentally shook his head of all thoughts and checked his phone.  He was startled to see it close to midnight, unaware of how fast time passed up here.

“I don’t mean to be that person, but-”

“It’s no problem.”  Bucky replied gently. “I’m surprised you didn’t drag us back hours ago.”

“Are you kidding?  I wish we could stay all night.  Buck, thank you for bringing me out here and sharing this special spot with me.”  He paused, wanting to gather his thoughts and try to convey how thankful he was.  “I haven’t had a night like this in a while, just kicking back and having fun.  I really hope we can do it again.”  Steve knew the words were true the second they came out of his mouth, and seeing the tiny and pleased smile on Bucky’s face warmed his heart.

Steve was falling hard, really hard.  And he only knew that when this ended, whatever this was, it would crash and burn so spectacularly that even Steve would be able to enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for the love from Chapter 8! So I’m gonna try something, I’m going to put song recommendations for each chapter when I post them. I won’t do it with previous chapters, I’m just going to start now and we’ll see how it goes! This chapter actually has four, and they’re the songs I envisioned Steve and Bucky listening to when they’re stargazing:
> 
> [Sliding Down - Béla Fleck, Mike Marshall & Edgar Meyer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ee4ZnZaEi4)  
> [Dust - Hana Oceans](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pBgW-svctVg)  
> [Oblivion – Bastille](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ZYisBWNtO0)  
> [One and Only – Adele](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wA4ppvp2IzY)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Songs:  
> [Around My Head – Cage The Elephant ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y9_ltHvhW-Q)  
> [Sixteen Saltines – Jack White ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wsM0sSJA_lI)  
> [Broken – Jake Bugg](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQMq5dO8Vb4)

“Rogers, is that a _coffee_?!”

Steve rolled his eyes as he grabbed his bag from his Audi while balancing a coffee in his hand.  His car looked normal compared to Tony’s bright red Bugatti Chiron and Sam’s black Mercedes-Benz G-Class SUV but it really wasn’t a fair comparison, seeing how a majority of the cars in the lot came out within the last year.

“Yes Tony.  I drink coffee every day.”  Steve nodded to Sam as he tried to patiently answer Tony’s question, the man currently lying on his car’s hood with a scarf wrapped tight around his neck.  Sam was standing next to it, leaning against his own car.

“But Rogers, you _never_ get coffee from the café!  You _always_ bring coffee from home.  Don’t tell me,” Tony clutched his heart and gasped.  “Did you _drive_ to the _café_ and buy _coffee_?!”

Steve just let his second eye roll do the talking as he took another sip of the impromptu Americano he did in fact buy this morning.  He woke up on this fine Monday and was dying for another cup of heaven, so he skipped his regular second coffee at home and breakfast with his parents and made a special trip to the café in question.

He even grabbed another muffin, a lemon poppy seed one this time, and the freshly-baked good had left a pleasant aroma in his car.  It was way out of order and not according to his schedule, but Steve felt alive.

“Why’d you decide to get coffee this morning?” Sam asked.

“And not bring us any?” Tony shot at him from his perch.

“I was just really craving good coffee,” Steve answered easily.  “Bucky got me hooked on these Americanos, I might ask for an espresso machine for Christmas.”

“Oh was that when you two went on your date last Friday?” Tony took off his sunglasses and twirled them in his hands.  “The night you ditched us to go look at the stars and eat delicious desserts?”

Steve felt his face redden but he just glared at Tony.  “It was not a date.”

Tony scoffed.  “I beg to differ.”

“It wasn’t!” Steve hissed at him, feeling his blood boil.  It was too early in the day, and way too early in the week to lose his temper.

“You and him drove to a secluded park with blankets, shared food and drinks, and star gazed for entertainment.”  Tony counted the activities on his fingers and shot Steve a triumphant look, which instantly put a scowl on Steve’s face.  “That is all of the requirements for a date Stevie.”

“He’s got a point,” Sam offered (unhelpfully in Steve’s opinion.)

“And proof.”  Before Steve could blink Tony had whipped out his phone, quickly tapped the screen and shoved the device in Steve’s face.  A group message popped up, and from the names and conversations it seems that Tony, Sam, Natasha and Clint were talking about Steve and Bucky.  Topics included their date (that totally wasn’t a date) and bets on when they’ll get together.

Steve ground his teeth and took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm and not dump his coffee on Tony’s car and Tony.  “So you guys just talk about me behind my back, huh?”

“And Bucky.” Tony replied lightly.

“Tony.”  Sam’s reprimand went unheard as Tony continued to scroll through messages and read them out.  But he didn’t get very far before Steve had turned away and stormed into the school.  His face must’ve shown how angry he was, seeing how people were steering from his path and not offering him a quick good morning.  The only exception was Wade Wilson, who Steve suspects doesn’t have proper social skills.

But Steve ignored the obnoxious sophomore and walked to his locker to drop off his coat.  It took him four tries to get his combination right, and even then the door opened so violently Steve almost spilled his coffee.

 _Take a deep breath._   Steve complied and found himself taking more than one until he was a little calmer.  _It’s Monday for God’s sake, you can’t punch Tony until Thursday at least_.

Smirking a little (and wondering when he turned crazy) Steve closed his locker and made his way to his first class.  American Politics with Mr. Coulson wasn’t one of Steve’s favorite classes but he liked the teacher and knew that it was still early enough so there wouldn’t be as many people there yet.

Sure enough the room was empty and Steve took his seat and pulled out his phone and muffin.  The lemony smell hit him immediately and relaxed him in a way the deep breathing just couldn’t.  He took a picture and sent it to Bucky, wishing him a happy Monday.  He received the middle finger emoji and smiled.

Halfway through the heavenly and delectable breakfast Sam slid into the seat next to Steve.  “Tony says he’s sorry.”

Steve just grunted, not allowing his obnoxious friend ruin this perfectly nice moment he was having with his muffin.

“You’re not still mad are you?”

Sam looked a tad apprehensive and a little shameful once Steve looked at him.  Steve had to give him a quick shake of his head to reassure him before swallowing.  “No, I’m not mad.  I just really like Bucky.  A lot.  And I don’t know what to do.”

“Are you serious?”  Steve just looked at his friend and Sam shook his head incredulously.  “Dude, just ask him out.”

Steve felt his eyebrows furrow together.  “I can’t just ask him out.”

“Yes you can,” Sam replied earnestly.  “You’re just too scared.”

Steve choked on his coffee, hastily swallowing before replying.  “Now wait just a minute-”

“Steve if you can honestly tell me that you’re not terrified of finally asking out another boy then I will pay you $100.”

Steve went to open his mouth but found he had nothing to say.  Okay, ‘terrified’ and ‘scared’ are just nice words to use instead of ‘living a nightmare where the cons logically outweigh the pros but the pros are just so much better.’  The pros obviously being able to call Bucky his boyfriend and being with Bucky and just generally being happy for once in Steve’s life, but it’s the cons of having his parents find out and kicking him out of the house or doing God knows what – that’s making Steve hesitate.

Not sure how to explain any of this to Sam Steve just thumped his head on the desk in defeat.  So much for having a positive and happy start to the week.

“Steve, I really can’t imagine how scared you must be right now but I can promise that nothing bad will happen if you ask Bucky out.  He is way into you, trust me.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”  Steve mumbled into the table.  “I’m worried about my parents.  What if they kick me out?”

“Then you know you’ll have a place to stay if they do.”  When Steve looked up at his friend Sam’s face was fiercely compassionate.  “You know Mama Wilson wouldn’t let you starve on the streets.”

Steve felt a smile warm his face and chest, temporarily icing the fear in his heart.  Maybe he could ask Bucky out.  Taking Sam’s word that Bucky likes him back (which even then he’s not 100% sure on that) Steve may try to ask him out sometime soon.

“On that note, with me helping you, if you could ask Bucky out by Thursday that would be great.”  Steve just looked questioningly at Sam, who looked back with a sheepish expression.  “Tony got a betting pool started a few weeks ago, and now it’s only me and Natasha left.”

Steve smacked his head on the desk again, utterly defeated and definitely humiliated.

*****

As much as Steve would’ve liked to ask Bucky out by Thursday, football and school had taken over his life.  He barely had any time to hang out with the boy in question, between extended practices, meetings with teachers about his multiple term papers, and helping Peter Parker and Wade Wilson with their presentations for trigonometry (Why math teachers make the students to presentations in class is something that Steve never understood.  And why he decided to help Shy-Guy and Drama Teen is something that Steve will never understand.)

The week had gone by in an exhausted blur but Steve and his team of S.H.I.E.L.D. Screaming Eagles were ready to take the field against Hydra Day School’s Octopi.  It was going to be a tough game, seeing how Hydra was known for being ruthless and violent in their play.  But the team had practiced hard and Steve knew they were ready for the challenge.

Or so he thought.

They were _tough._   Steve couldn’t remember the last time he had taken so many hits and jabs.  He’s pretty sure he’s been tackled more in this one game than all season.  And it wasn’t like it was his offensive line slacking, everybody was getting hit hard.  Sam was actually carried and thrown a few yards by a particularly awful player, who didn’t even get a flag for unnecessary roughness.

The refs were terrible, the weather was cold, Steve was aching, and the worst of it all?  They were losing.

Tempers were rising.  Sam had yelled himself hoarse at every player, only cooling down slightly when Thor’s defensive line (all massive and much bigger than Sam) got in his face after Sam went after Thor for letting Hydra score again.

Steve was pulling Sam away (for the second time) towards the field.  “C’mon Sam, we’re all playing on the same team here.  And there’s plenty of time left in this game.”

Sam just glared and shoved his helmet on, not replying to Steve’s pep talk.  But it was a good sign, because if Sam was really mad he’d curse Steve out and yell right in his face.  They’re making progress.

Steve took a quick glance to the scoreboard – 10 to the eagles and 21 to the octopi.  They just started the fourth quarter with two timeouts left.  _Plenty of time_ , Steve reassured himself before stepping into the huddle.

“Okay men, Coach wants Red and White 15 on the left side.  Hold the line tight so we can get the ball through, Hogun try the fake out to the right this time."  The senior wide receiver nodded in assent.  "On my mark.”  Steve clapped with his team and stood.  They lined up and faced each other man to man, and Steve took a second to look at Hydra’s defensive line.

They were all big boys.  Not that Steve’s line was small, but they definitely weren’t as large as Hydra’s line.  Each player was as big as Volstagg, the largest player on Thor’s defensive line.  And they were yelling, sneering, choosing their targets.  Steve saw at least three players point to him and he knew better than to let any emotion cross his face, but he was a little nervous coming against these players.

“Down set!  Red and White 5,” Steve felt the whoosh of air from behind, knowing that Sam ran across, ready to run as a decoy for the rushing play.  “Red and White 10, hut hike!”  Steve got the ball and turned to his right to quickly to hand off to the running back, Fandral.  The second the ball left his hands he felt a body push against him.  And a millisecond later Steve was crashing to the ground.

Ouch.  Okay, yeah this one hurts a lot.

Maybe from his ankle getting caught under the tackler’s legs, or from falling on his arms bent at an uncomfortable angle.  But it was probably from his head smacking down onto the ground, so hard that it bounced down twice before coming to rest.

Wait, when did everything get so quiet?  Oh no that was the ringing noise in his ears just drowning out the crowd and yells.

There was still a heavy mass putting pressure on his whole body so even if Steve could get up he didn’t want to.  Steve tried to wrap his head around what was going on, but it currently felt like a hammer was going to town on his skull.

After what seemed like an eternity the Hydra player finally stood, using Steve’s helmet to help himself up no less.  The sounds around him were slowly getting louder, the jeering from the tackler and Sam’s indignant shouting and the refs piercing whistle sounding clearer than before. 

Steve opened his eyes (wait, his eyes were closed?) and took in a shuddering breath.  His head throbbed with a striking pain that made him wince and he was alarmed to see the edge of his vision blurry.

“Steve!  Steve, c’mon man!”

“Stay down bitch.”

“Back up, give him some space!”

“Mr. Rogers, do you feel any pain in your ankles, arms or neck?”

Steve focused on the voice of Dr. Erskine, the football team’s medic.  His face was composed but scrutinizing, ever so serious in his duties.

“No,” Steve gasped out.  “I’m okay.”

“Okay do you feel dizzy or disoriented?  Any lightheadedness?”  The medic’s hands were holding the back of Steve’s neck and keeping him still, just in case there was serious damage to his spine.

Steve assessed himself and his surroundings, relieved to see a clearer image of Dr. Erskine peering into his face.  Behind him Heimdall, Steve's center guard, was holding Sam back from probably going after the Hydra players, if the background yells and swearing was anything to go by.

“I’m okay, my neck feels fine.”

“Steven I’m going to sit you up now, take it slow.”

With Dr. Erskine’s help Steve rose slowly, still sitting on the ground with his legs out straight.  He wiggled his toes within his cleats and was thankful to feel no pain from the action.

“I feel okay.”  Steve answered before Sitwell’s question.  He looked up at Sam and Heimdall, both watching him nervously.  “Let me get up and play.”

“Out of the question, you have to go back to the bench.”

“What? No I can’t!’”  Steve got his feet under him and made to stand but the world tilting sideways nearly had him on his backside.

“Steve, take it easy!”  Sam and Heimdall caught him in time before he fell and he stood propped in their arms while he waited for everything to stop spinning.

“It was just the blood rushing to my head, I’m okay.”  Steve mumbled.  But Dr. Erskine wasn’t having it and was having Sam and Heimdall bring Steve back to the bench.  The crowd roared and clapped once they saw Steve back on his feet but he only focused on _not_ focusing on the one fan who would be mad that Steve was being benched.

Joseph Rogers always told Steve to ‘shake it off’ or ‘toughen up’ but he couldn’t really help it now, seeing how he was practically being dragged to the bench now, right?

“Easy now,” Dr. Erskine said once they reached the sidelines.  “You boys get back in the game, I can lead Mr. Rogers to the bench myself.”

Heimdall nodded and gave Steve a swift nod before jogging back out.  Wade Wilson was already standing by the huddle, waiting for Sam to return.  But he just stood by Steve, letting his hand linger on Steve’s shoulder.

“Come back out, ya hear?”  Sam’s voice was stern but the worry in his eyes gave away how he really felt.

“Yes sir.”  Steve saluted to Sam, who rolled his eyes but finally smiled and turned back to the field.  Steve almost ran out with him, just out of habit, but Dr. Erskine’s hand on his arm held him back. Barely.

“Sit down Mr. Rogers, Coach Phillips will be over in a second.  Keep your head still and follow my finger with your eyes.”

As Dr. Erskine ran through the procedure Steve felt dread settling into his stomach.  He was letting his team down.  He _needed_ to be back on the field.  He was fine, it was just a rough hit.  He was the captain for Christ’s sake, how can he be the captain if he’s sitting on the sideline?!

“How’s he doing?” Steve abruptly turned at the sound of his coach’s voice.  Coach Phillips showed no other emotion than his normal grumpiness but Steve could tell he was concerned.

“I don’t believe he has a concussion, but I don’t think it is wise for him to return to the game.”  Dr. Erskine tried to speak in a low tone but Steve heard him loud and clear.

“I have to go back in!  Coach put me back in, we’re losing and I need to be out there!”  Steve shouted desperately, begging for his coach to understand the necessity of Steve returning to the game. Not only to help his team win or make his father happy, but just so he won’t feel like a monumental failure for abandoning his team at the most dire hour.

Coach Phillips looked back and forth between Steve and Dr. Erskine, his face a sign of stern concentration.  “Sit for five minutes and you can go back in.  But if you feel any dizziness you come right back out Rogers.”

Steve opened his mouth to protest and list the merits of going back in now but Coach Phillips spoke up again, much louder.  “Say one word and you’re benched for the rest of the game.”  He spun around and walked back to the sideline, leaving Steve to sputter in his wake.  He knew better than to talk back to his coach, but didn’t he realize how important this game was?  And how it was eating Steve up inside not to be on the field with his team?

Dr. Erskine walked away after securing a promise from Steve to definitely leave the game if he gets dizzy again, leaving Steve to stare down at his hands and try not to let the guilt eat him from the inside.  Logically he knows he can’t be blamed for getting tackled to the ground.  I mean, he could’ve side stepped the defensive lineman if he saw him in time, or call a different play so their offensive line wouldn’t have missed that player –

“Rogers!  Get over here you’re going in on the next play.”  Steve grabbed his helmet and jogged over to his coach.  There was five minutes remaining and the score hadn’t changed.  Wade Wilson was struggling, but he was just keeping afloat.

“Okay, stick to your gut and give them hell.”  Coach Phillips said once Steve got to him.  “Let’s beat these sons of bitches.”

Steve looked at his coach, not familiar with the brash language and violent attitude coming from him.

“Well, I’m not gonna kiss you.  Get out there!”  Steve jumped and ran on the field and switched with Wade, who looked relieved for the change.  The fans cheered loud for Steve’s return but he tuned them out and turned his focus to his team.

“Alright men, let’s get some points.  We’re running Scout 85.  Cover the block on the left please, let’s not have a repeat of last time.”  The players chuckled, albeit a little nervously, but still nodded in determination.  After the break they lined in position, Sam on the far left of the field.  This play was risky but it was the 3rd down and they had a lot of yardage to cover to even get close to kick a field goal.

“Down set.  44 Laser, 44 Laser.  Hut, hike!”  Steve received the ball and stepped back, reading Sam sprint downfield and simultaneously watching for any escaped defensive line.  But luck was on their side and once Sam hit the mark Steve hurled the ball.  The spiral was gorgeous but Steve only admired it for a minute before being hit with a late tackle.  Thankfully it wasn’t nearly as hard as the previous hit and Steve quickly sat up to look for the ball.  But what he saw made his stomach drop.

A Hydra cornerback was streaking back up the field with a gleeful expression on his face, and the football in his hands.

He fucking intercepted the throw.

Steve went into autopilot and ran towards the player, determined to take him down.  But Sam beat him to it and grabbed him by the legs and brought them both crashing to the ground.

“God fucking dammit.”  Steve cursed.  He wanted to kick himself for throwing that easy pick.  And now with four minutes left Hydra would run down the clock and win the game.

He didn’t realize he was standing in the field until he noticed Thor and the defense gearing up to come out.  Steve snapped into Captain Mode and got his offense off the field, trying not to think about how he ruined their chances at another championship.

 _Keep your game face.  Be a leader_.

“It was a tough play to call,” Sam told him as they met on the sidelines.  Steve just nodded curtly, eyes focused on the field.  Just as he suspected Hydra took their time in their huddle and meandered around before setting up a play.

The last few minutes were agonizing to watch.  Steve’s season, and his football career, was crumbling before his eyes and all he could do was stand and let it fall.  Sam stood by his side, taking in quick gulps of air and pursing his lips.  Steve couldn’t meet his tormented gaze without feeling a horrendous amount of guilt for ruining his season too.  Not to mention Thor and his friends, Heimdall, Volstagg, Hogun and Fandral, all seniors playing in their soon to be last high school game ever.

Once the ref finally called the game, Steve led his team onto the field to congratulate Hydra (even if he’d rather swallow a bucket of rusty nails.)  He kept a stoic look on his face and tried not to notice the defeated look on everyone’s face or the tears in Thor’s eyes.

 _My fault, it’s all my fault_ was the mantra running through Steve’s head as he shook hands with the smirking Hydra players.  Even the coach looked smug as he congratulated Steve on a good season.

The team walked to the locker room together, collectively earning a rousing cheer and long applause from their fans.  Mrs. Wilson’s whistle was the loudest among them and Steve didn’t need to turn to hear the catch in Sam’s breath as he fought back tears.  Steve kept his eyes to the ground, feeling the burning gaze of disappointment radiating from his father.

 _It’s all my fault_.

Thor’s sobs echoed in the locker room, with Heimdall, Fandral & Volstagg all trying to cheer him up.  Hogun was glaring at the wall and clenching his jaw.  Steve went over to where Thor sat on the bench and gave him a tight hug.  He’s played with Thor and his friends for three years, and seeing the large and boisterous guy break down in tears nearly killed Steve.  Sam joined the hug, with Heimdall, Fandral and Hogun all swooping in to join.  Volstagg completed the hug, wrapping his arms around them all.  The seniors shared their moment together, the last time they would be in this locker room as teammates.

Coach Phillips entered just as the hug broke apart.  Thor composed himself as best as he could, leaving a depressing silence in the room.

“You all played a hell of a game.”  Coach Phillips started.  He took off his hat and tipped it to all of them.  “You never gave up and you all showed me what hard work is.  I don’t want anybody to take the blame for this game.”  He zoned in on Steve, creeping Steve with his uncanny ability to read his mind.  “You should never take the blame for a team sport, and there is nothing to take the blame for today.  I am so honored to say that I had the privilege to coach this team, and I thank each and every one of you for giving me that opportunity.  And to my seniors, I sincerely thank you for being role models for the underclassmen and I wish you luck with you futures.”  He led the other coaches and Dr. Erskine in applause, with the underclassmen quickly joining in.

Thor started crying again, and Sam and Hogun both lost their fights to hold back tears.  Fandral was smiling and nodding, tears slowly going down his face and Volstagg had pulled Hemidall into a tight hug.

Steve just sat at his spot, staring down at his hands.

 _My fault, it’s all my fault_.

“Rogers.”  Steve looked up at the medic who called for his attention.  “Your father needs to speak with you in the hall.”

Dread filled Steve but he quickly stood and made his way out of the locker room.  He caught Coach Phillip’s wary look but didn’t nod or smile or give him anything.

Joseph Rogers was standing on the far side of the wall with a blank look on his face.  Steve swallowed quietly and stepped forward. 

He didn’t even get a chance to greet his father before he was all over Steve.

“What the hell was that?”

Steve dropped his head and looked at his feet.  “Hydra is a tough team, and they had a lot-”

“I don’t need excuses for why you lost Steven.”  Mr. Rogers snapped and Steve barely hid his flinch.  “Your behavior today was inexcusable – you played like garbage, you left the game and abandoned your team, and to top it all off you threw the game-losing interception.”

“Dad, I didn’t want-”

“Don’t talk back to me.”  Steve’s flinch was much larger, but he held his tongue.  Shame coursed through his body and he knew he was pulling in on himself and not standing tall and proud like a captain should.

 _It’s my fault, it’s all my fault_.

“I’m very disappointed in you.”  The anger mixed with true displeasure and disgust cut Steve to his core and he couldn’t even look up to see his father walk away.  He stayed rooted to the spot, his father’s words running through his head.

_You played like garbage, you abandoned your team, you threw the game-losing interception._

_It’s my fault, I’m garbage and abandoned my team, I let us lose._

_It’s my fault_.

A noise down the hall brought him back to his senses and Steve suddenly feared returning to the locker room.  How could he face his team after he lost the game for them?  How can they even stand to be around him, or even look at him?

Steve kept his head down and re-entered the locker room.  He didn’t meet anyone’s eye, scared that they would look deep and see that he is a fraud – he never was the true captain and he should’ve never taken that responsibility.

He quickly changed out of his uniform, relieved that Sam was still showering so he didn’t have to try and explain why he was a failure.  Sure they would just tell him that he wasn’t and he shouldn’t be so hard on himself.  But that’s what you’re supposed to say to someone when they’re upset.

Steve left the locker room and took a side exit to the parking lot to avoid the crowd of fans waiting at the main exit.  How could he stand in front of them and represent his team when he couldn’t even throw a football?

_You’re garbage._

_It’s my fault._

Luckily there weren’t many fans in the parking lot, although he was pretty sure a few people called his name.  But he got in his car, put it in drive and tore out of the parking lot as fast as he could.  As he left, the reprimanding words of his father slowly became his inner chant.

_You’re garbage, you lost the game.  It’s your fault._

_It’s my fault_.

*****

Steve roused himself from his fitful doze as gracefully as you could imagine – blearily blinking his eyes open, smacking his dry lips together and groaning as he stretched his sore muscles past their limit.

Extremely dazed and confused he groped for his phone in the dark, grumbling when he heard the thump of his phone falling on the ground.  He rolled over and drastically had to hold himself back from falling off the bed.

It was a lot of work to just check the time.  But once Steve clicked his phone (and noting the early time of 9:34 PM) he saw the influx of messages he’s received within the last few hours.  He takes a moment to think what happened in the last few hours – Steve came home to an empty house with a note from Maria on the kitchen table.  It had said that his parents were going out to dinner and would probably be gone all night.  She also had written a short sentence congratulating Steve on a great season.

With a jolt the memory of the football game came rushing back and Steve just moaned and pulled the blankets back over his head.  He didn’t want to remember anymore and going back to sleep sounded like a much better idea.

But of course his friends had other plans and Steve was bombarded with five texts in rapid succession.  The name _Sam Wilson_ flashed on his screen and the better part of Steve opened the messages (even if there was a frown on his face.)

                _Sam Wilson_

_Steeeeeeeve_

_COME TO MY HOUSE_

_BIXY HRRT_

_OH CAPRWB MZ CSLAN_

_BUCJKY LOIK SAD_

Steve gave an annoyed laugh and dragged himself out of bed.  He had no desire to be around people, especially people who would see him as a failure.  But some weird paternal instinct kicked in and he felt bad for leaving a Drunk Sam to roam alone.  Well maybe not completely alone but he would be with other drunk people that wouldn’t be able to take care of him.

The drive to Sam’s house was quick and Steve spent the whole time psyching himself up for a fun night with friends that definitely didn’t hate him or think any less of him for losing the game.

By the time he pulled into the crowded driveway his mood went from slightly miffed to extremely irritated.

Steve let himself in the house and quickly scanned the room.  Sam was nowhere to be found, but it was a big house.  He didn’t see Bucky either but that was not Steve’s number one priority right now (a fact he had to remind himself on the drive over.)

He wanted to see Bucky but he knew that Bucky had gone to the game today and saw his pathetic performance.  And now he must realize that he’s a loser and not worth anymore wasted time.

Some people stopped Steve and congratulated him on a good season, and Steve knew they meant well but it just rubbed him the wrong way.  He didn’t need their sympathy or pity or lies.  Steve knows he fucked up today and just being told the opposite is really just a slap to the face.

“Stevie my boy!”  A hard thump on his back made Steve stumble forward and he turned to face Tony.  A very drunk and wobbly Tony who decided to use Steve’s shoulder as an arm rest, ignoring how he’s a few inches shorter and wobbling even more to try and hold onto Steve.

“Hey Tony, have you seen Sam?  I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“You played a hell of a game today!”  Tony cheered, completely ignoring Steve’s question.  “Next stop, regionals!”

Steve gritted his teeth but kept his temper in check.  “That’s not even right, and we didn’t win today.”

Tony looked at Steve, a shocked expression ruined from his excessive blinking.  “Oh shit, I was watching the wrong team then.”

Steve just scoffed but tried to remain focus on the task at hand.  “Where’s Sam?”

“Don’t you mean lover boy?”  Tony leaned in and whispered in Steve’s ear.  His balance was shot and he nearly sent them both tumbling over but thankfully Steve had a good grip on his arm and save the fall.

Even if he really wanted to let Tony crash to the ground and continue his search for Sam.  But that would be a little too harsh.

“Tony, not now.  I’m trying to find-”

“Well when then?  100 years?”  Tony’s was slurring and he spoke louder.  “Cause you don’t have the balls to ask him out.”

“Tony,” Steve hissed, glancing around the room and looking for eavesdroppers.  “Shut up.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, you’re not my captain!”  Tony shoved Steve off and teetered dangerously before righting himself.  A few people saw the shove and turned curiously to their spectacle.  Steve was now extremely close to flying off the handle but still realizing that he has to keep himself in check now more than ever.

But Tony was pointing at Steve (or more like a foot to Steve’s left) and continued his tirade.  “You need to lighten up!  Why are you so mad right now, and all the time?  Is it because you have a gigantic stick shoved up your ass?  I thought you would like that-”

“Shut the hell up Tony!”  Steve snapped, drawing gasps from the growing crowd.  But he didn’t care that people were watching.  “I lost the game today!  Of course I’m upset, it was my fault!”

“Football is stupid.”  Tony muttered darkly into his drink, already distracted by someone else.  But it wasn’t until he pointed to his empty glass and mouthed _‘refill’_ that Steve really lost his cool. 

He smacked the glass from Tony’s hands.  He heard it shatter on the marble floor but he was staring at Tony’s smug and slightly crossed eyes.

“I care about the game.  You would think, seeing how you’re my ‘friend’ that you would care even just a little.  But all you do is shit all over it and make fun of me for playing.”

“Hey my shits cost more than your haircut.”  Tony giggled and held his hand up for a high five.

“Fuck you.”  Steve spat.  He was done.  Fuck Tony for always making fun of Steve, and not even from just football but for everything.  Getting good grades, being involved with school, taking his time with Bucky.  Tony just wouldn’t be happy until he tore at Steve’s confidence, and Steve was done.

“I won’t but Bucky will.”

Steve wasn’t done.

He went to lunge at Tony but strong arms held him back and began to pull him away.  He writhed in their grip, doing anything he could to get to Tony and smack some sense into his smug and arrogant brain.

“Steve come on, let it go.”

Steve didn’t even realize it was Natasha standing in front of him, looking calm and alert and trying to calm him down.  And the arms that pulled him away belonged to Clint and Hogun, firm yet gentle in their grasp.

“Steve look at me, you need to relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Steve snarled.  “And I am going to be so fucking relaxed as I’m punching Tony’s face in.”

“I think you should head home, if you stay you’re gonna do something you’ll regret.”

Steve just shook his head, still pulling against Clint and Hogun and trying to get to Tony.  But Tony was being led away by a furious Pepper and somber Bruce.

“Let me go,” Steve growled.

“Not until you calm down, man.”  Clint’s voice was right in his ear.  “Do you really wanna get in a fight in front of these people?”

Steve glared around the room taking in the sizeable crowd.  The fight drained right out of him and horror set in as he realized what he almost did.  He pulled himself from Clint and Hogun’s arms and raced for the exit.  He had to get away, he can’t _believe_ he almost got in a fight with _Tony Stark_.  How embarrassing.

If he father ever found out, Steve would be skinned alive.  So before anything worse could’ve happen Steve bolted.  He threw himself in his car and sped away before anyone called him back.

 _You idiot, you fucking idiot_.  Steve berated himself on the drive back to his house.  Tony has riled him up before and Steve didn’t put a finger on the guy.  Why in God’s name did he think now would’ve been the perfect time to kill him?  That would’ve been just _perfect_ – lose the playoff game for his team and get in a meaningless fight in the same day.

God what would his father say?

Luckily he didn’t have to find out when he got home, for his parents were still out to dinner.  He parked his car and got out quickly, exhaling sharply to rid himself of any remaining murderous intentions.

Kicking the Audi’s tire helped a bit too.

Steve only landed a few solid kicks when a truck pulled into the drive.  Steve’s fight instinct took over as he squinted at the headlights.  He should’ve locked the gate behind him and now he has to deal with some stranger coming to his house at 10:00 at night, who may or may not be a burglar or murderer.

But the truck’s lights turned off and Steve was shocked to see Bucky sitting in the driver’s seat.

_How does he know where I live?_

He must’ve followed Steve back from Sam’s house, which meant he was probably at Sam’s house, and almost certainly saw Steve’s little showdown with Tony.

Bucky got out of his truck and came around to where Steve stood by his car. He stopped in his tracks with his hands in his pockets and an impassive look on his face.

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Steve shot at him.  He winced, knowing the words came out much harsher than he meant.  But it was true, he didn’t need anyone to come check on him.  Steve was surprised that anyone could stand to stay at that party when Tony was shooting his mouth off.

“I know.”  Bucky replied casually.  He moved to the steps leading to Steve’s house and took a seat.  He looked back up at Steve with that same unguarded expression.

“Yeah, well you can leave.  I am perfectly okay.”  Steve began pacing, walking a straight path back and forth in front of Bucky, who sat silently on the steps.  “Tony never knows when to shut up and I just didn’t want to deal with him.”

As Steve marched Steve in front of the steps, anger and fury lit a spark in him that’ll give way to an epic explosion that may be his undoing.  The responsible voices were telling him to calm down and keep it together, but Steve knew that wasn’t possible anymore.

“I try so hard to do everything that everyone asks of me, and when I do nobody thanks me.”  Steve felt the anger and fury spread into a fire and he clenched his fists to stop the onslaught of hateful feelings.  “But the second I do something wrong it’s like the sky is falling and it’s the worst thing I could’ve possibly done.  I’m just _sick_ of always having to be the perfect son or player or friend!”

Bucky didn’t say a word.  He just sat and watched Steve stalk in a straight line.

“I mean, don’t I get a chance to slack off a little, or make one mistake, or almost punch someone in the face?!”

Steve’s question was met by silence, but he didn’t really give Bucky a chance to answer as he plowed on in his rant.

“If I take one toe out of line, or dishonor the family in some teensy tiny microscopic way, it's the end of the world.  I could use up the rest of the milk or whatever and my parents will act like I spat in their faces!”  Steve’s voice rose as he become angrier and he shook his head at his own disbelief.  “That’s fucking ridiculous!”

Bucky didn’t offer his opinion or anything, and Steve realized he was doing what no one else thought to do.  Just listen.  If Steve went to people with his troubles they always offered their advice and told him what he should do.  And that was nice and all, but he knew that their suggestions would never work for Steve.  And it sometimes made him wondered if his friends or people that he cared about really knew him at all.  The abrupt thought made him sad.

He was tired.  He was so very tired and just wanted things to go back to normal.  His own normal.

“But this is my life, and it's been working for me.”  Exhaustion seeped into Steve’s voice and he was surprised at how sullen and young he sounded.  He liked his life, right?  That was the whole point of this argument, proving to his friend that he was perfectly fine.  “I’ve been getting by.”

He looked at Bucky, almost pleading.  “I’ve been getting by,” he repeated.  Steve was almost embarrassed to hear the desperate need for acceptance in his voice, but he was too tired to care.

Bucky sighed from the steps and finally stood.  He walked forward and stopped directly in front on Steve and gave him a long search look.  His eyes were wide in their examination, and Steve felt wary under them.  He knew he should step back and get a few feet between him and Bucky, fearing that he would crack under Bucky’s observant gaze.  Even now he could feel a lump forming in his throat and the tell-tale prick at the corners of his eyes.

He was weak, he was garbage, he was everything his father said. 

But suddenly, Bucky’s arms were wrapped tight around Steve.  He was standing close and was resting his head on Steve’s shoulders, his own shoulders moving slowly as he breathed.  He didn’t say anything, but just enveloped Steve into a nice warm hug. 

Bucky hadn’t said one word since he came to check on Steve, but somehow this simple hug was able to do more than words would’ve probably done.  Steve was beginning to realize that Bucky was unique in that way, able to show how he felt and what he meant with actions and without hesitation.  The spontaneous action felt more wholesome and genuine, and it did more for Steve than he could’ve thought.

If this were a movie Steve knew he was supposed to break down in tears and confess how he’s never felt loved by his parents and how he hates his life and so on and so forth. 

But this is the real life.  So Steve just hugged Bucky back and let his head fall on Bucky’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy word count, Batman! This is definitely my longest chapter to date, so I hope you like it! I would just like to add that I have a basic knowledge of football but I did look some things up, so if there is anything wrong please let me know! Thank you for the love from chapter nine, I’m hope people are enjoying this fic! :) :) :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Songs:  
> [Andalusia – Hammock ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m0YOHcCtbJA)  
> [Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop – Landon Pigg ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q2Zy_PVaRrs)  
> [First Day Of My Life – Bright Eyes ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztGPYPArAyE)  
> 

Steve blinked himself awake and stared at his ceiling.  His alarm was insistently telling him to get up and start the day but he didn’t really want to.

He wasn’t quite ready to stand and stretch his sore muscles or try to even think of an apology for his friends.  And he certainly didn’t want to talk to his parents yet.  Especially his father.

Steve rolled over to shut off his clock and his eyes instantly fell on his team’s school picture.  He always took the time to frame the group photo and set it right on his bedside table.  It helped motivate Steve first thing in the morning and always energized his tired bones.  But seeing it the morning after their crushing defeat only depressed him further.

_Working out will release endorphins.  Endorphins equal happiness_.

Steve automatically rose from his bed and padded down to the kitchen for his first coffee.  As he drank it he thought about what he could do with his time now that he won’t have any football practices or games.  Maybe he could tutor some more students?  Put in some more volunteer hours?  As long as he wouldn’t have to work at his father’s company and be the office errand boy he’d be happy.

He drained the remaining few sips and left to run.  It was a brisk morning, with the light from the grey dawn spilling onto the Rogers’ property.  Steve picked his path and let his steady breath and soft footfalls fill his ears and clear his mind.

But of course Steve couldn’t completely clear his mind, now when he knew a guy like Bucky Barnes.

He still couldn’t believe that Bucky followed him home last night just to check on him.  It should probably creep Steve out a little bit but he honestly thought it was thoughtful and sweet.  And Steve definitely needed a level head to talk him down.

_Bucky didn’t even say one word to me_ , Steve remembered suddenly.  _He just stood there and let me yell in his face until I tired myself out_.  It was bizarre, not having someone try to shove their ideas down Steve’s throat and it had actually worked.  Steve wondered if Bucky knew what he was doing or if it was just a lucky guess.

Steve stumbled as his foot caught on a root he passes over every morning.  _C’mon Rogers, focus now_.  Steve shook his head and returned his attention to his feet hitting the ground and pushing his body just far enough to feel the stretch in his legs.  He tried to take it easier today, knowing he had to let his body rest after the beating it received yesterday.  Steve would have to check himself in the shower for bruises or other scrapes.

He returned to his house and darted upstairs to the bathroom.  He avoided the lounge by the kitchen, knowing that his parents would be up and drinking their coffee.  Steve knew that he would have to face them at some point, but he’d rather it be later than now.  And he was sweaty and gross from his run, and his mother always complained how she could smell him a mile away.

After he breezed through a shower (and finding three massive bruises on his arms and legs) and dressed Steve steeled himself for a silent and tense family gathering.  There wouldn’t be any conversation – if anything Joseph Rogers would talk down to Steve and list everything that his did wrong while his mother listened silently.  But when he walked into the lounge he found it empty.

Relief flooded Steve’s head before concern as to where his parents were (which probably wasn’t a good indicator of his current relationship with his parents but Steve is definitely going to ignore that for now.)

He did see a note tucked under his coffee mug on the counter.  He recognized Maria’s neat and precise handwriting before he read the message:

> _Your father had work to finish at the office.  Your mother decided to accompany him before they meet at the club for brunch with the Starks and Wilsons.  The boys will be there but your father has asked me to remind you that your attendance isn’t mandatory_.

Steve stared down at the paper after he finished reading, not really seeing the words.

In translation: your parents have no desire to see you and you better not show your face at brunch.

He was a little hurt (and quite insulted if he was being honest) but not as much as he thought he should be.  He wouldn’t have to talk with his parents or awkwardly avoid his friends at their weekly breakfast-lunch-booze meal, and if Tony and Sam were going to be there they wouldn’t pop in and visit.

Steve found himself grinning and reveling in the newfound alone time.  He poured his second cup of coffee and sighed happy as the steam rose up in his face.  What could he do today?  Maybe head down to school and clean out his football locker so he wouldn’t have to do it tomorrow, or organize his room and check his closet for old clothes to donate?  The possibilities were endless and Steve had all day to decide.

But a text from his phone made the decision for Steve and he dumped his coffee down the drain before grabbing his jacket and darting out the door.

“I hope I’m not interrupting on your Morning Mimosa or stealing you away from Rich People Get-Togethers.”  Bucky said mock-seriously fifteen minutes later.

“Actually I was implicitly uninvited to brunch this morning,” Steve replied matter-of-factly.  He peered over his menu at Bucky’s shocked face and grinned.  “But I like this much better.”

It had been Bucky who sent the early text, asking Steve if he wanted to join him for breakfast.  And of course that idea was way better than going through his stupid room.

Breakfast food, coffee and spending time alone with Bucky?  Yeah, Steve had hit the jackpot.

“I don’t know what I’m more surprise by, that you actually have a Sunday Brunch or that your parents told you not to go.”  Bucky shook his head after the waitress had taken their breakfast orders.

“Well they technically didn’t tell me,” Steve countered.  “I could still go if I wanted but I don’t have to.  So later I can’t say I wasn’t invited and get mad at them.  But I’ve been their son long enough to know that when they say I don’t have to go it means they don’t want me there.”

“That’s harsh.”  Bucky noted as he took a long gulp of coffee.  But Steve just shrugged. 

“It’s how people like my dad operate.  The Starks have been hosting brunch every Sunday since I’ve known them.  Sometimes it’s just our families plus the Wilsons, but most of the time they invite their colleagues or potential business partners.  They met new people, make connections and all that shit.  But it’s 100% fake.”  When Bucky raised an eyebrow Steve elaborated.  “Nobody there really cares to know how you are or what you’re doing.  They just suck up and make a good impression for my dad or Mr. Stark or Wilson.”

“Wow, so you’ve been around fake people your entire life.”  Bucky replied in respect.

“Pretty much.  It’s not so bad with Sam and Tony, because at brunch we usually leave after they stop serving food, or in Tony’s case the alcohol.  But it’s annoying when the people under my dad try to talk to us and find out how to suck up to my dad.  Tony will actually give fake information and see their ‘clever’ plan crash and burn.”

Bucky gave a chuckle.  “Does it actually work?”

“For a while, but they caught on pretty fast and realized what Tony was doing.”  Steve paused thoughtfully.  “You know Tony is probably the most sincere person I know.  He’s an asshole but he’s always himself.  Which turns out to be an asshole.”  Steve smiled briefly before remembering Tony’s drunken face and the insults he hurled at Steve the night before.  He felt the smile fall before he looked down at the table.

“How’re you feeling?”  Bucky’s kind voice made Steve lift his head and he saw empathy etched on his friend’s face.

“I’m okay,” Steve replied after hesitating.  “A little embarrassed to be honest.”

Bucky paused and Steve saw an apprehensive look quickly cross his face before he masked it back to concern.  “Can I ask why?”

“I made a fool of myself in of everyone.” Steve replied.  Just remembering the scene he caused at Sam’s house made him inwardly cringe, and it wasn’t difficult to recall every second of that fiasco and not feel like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

“Hey Steve, stay with me.”  Bucky’s voice brought Steve from his reverie and turned back to Bucky.  He hadn’t even realized that he looked away or slump his shoulders, so caught up in his own head.

“Sorry,” Steve quickly apologized. 

“No worries.  And seriously, everyone is allowed to have a moment or whatever.”

He made it sound so easy.  Steve was jealous.

“Not me,” he said.  “I can’t embarrass myself like that ever, or my father will have my skin.  If there’s one thing Rogers don’t do is make a scene – it’s a sign of weakness.”

Bucky just looked at Steve with a stunned look.  “Wow, your father certainly has done a number on you.”

Steve opened his mouth to protest but found that he didn’t have the energy to.  He was so tired. 

“Hey, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”  Bucky’s voice was soothing and relaxed Steve ever so slightly. He nodded gratefully.

“Thanks Bucky.  And really thank you, for everything.”  Bucky looked like he wanted to wave off Steve’s compliments but Steve wouldn’t let him.  “I’m serious.  What you did last night was more than I would’ve thought to ask you or anyone, and it was just what I needed.  So thank you.”

Bucky nodded back, looking extremely pleased.  He was still grinning as the waitress set the steaming plates of food on the table and shuffled away.

After the boys enjoyed their meals (full breakfast with sausage and bacon for Bucky and scrambled eggs and wheat toast for Steve) Bucky balled his napkin on his plate and pushed it away.  “Man, you can’t beat a diner breakfast.”

Steve nodded in agreement, feeling that his meal was probably one of the best he’s had in a while.  It was nothing special but anything that Steve did in Bucky’s company made it seem so much better.  He guessed that they could go dumpster diving and it would still be a ball, as long as Bucky was by his side.

“So what are you gonna do with your free time, do you have a job or something?” 

Steve shrugged at Bucky’s question.  “I’m not sure, I was actually thinking about it today.  I can probably get more involved with the Humanitarian Club and LBGTQ Allies Association, and focus on my class presidency -”

“Wait, your school has a LBGTQ Allies Association?”  Bucky interrupted eagerly.  “So does ours!  Clint runs it though.”

“Yeah Clint asked me about forming one at LeHigh last year, seeing how I formed the one at S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Whoa, really?”  Bucky’s awed voice made Steve blush but he still nodded sheepishly. 

“It’s nothing really, it’s just about raising awareness and informing students about the need for equality for all.  Our club is small because our school is so small and a lot of people aren’t willing to open their eyes.  We do our fundraisers with LeHigh’s LBGTQ Allies Association because their group is much bigger.”

“Wow.  Clint bugged me to join ages ago but now I’ll have to.”

Steve smiled.  “You should, it’s nice to know that what we’re doing is making a difference, even if it’s just telling someone about us.”

“Yeah, totally.  So will you have anything else on your plate besides your clubs?”

“Well, I might take on a Mentee.  Although my dad doesn’t want -”

“Wait is that a thing?”  Bucky interrupted again sounding unbelieving.

“Yeah, a lot of the guys on the football team asked me to be their Mentor, but my dad -”

“Wait, what do you _do_?” 

“It’s exactly what it sounds like.  I would help an underclassman with school and life and planning their future.  But my dad isn’t too keen on the idea.  He wants me focusing on my college interviews.”

“Where to?”

“Stanford, Harvard, Columbia, a few other places that I can’t remember.”

“Jesus Christ.”  Bucky exclaimed loud enough that the elderly woman at the table next to theirs sent him a dirty look but he was focused on Steve’s face.  “That’s insane.  I don’t think any of the places I’ve applied to require an interview.”

“Where did you apply?”  Steve asked.

“UNC is my top choice.  I don’t have a clue on what I want to do but I really like that campus.  I also sent in for some trade schools just as a safety.  I could apprentice at the mechanics shop where I am now set up my own shop.”

“Huh, I don’t think I knew that you worked at an auto shop.”  Steve noted.

“Yeah it’s still new.  I get to come and go as I please and I get paid under the table.  It’s a pretty sweet gig.”

“That sounds nice.”  Steve said sincerely.  It did – it sounded relaxed and chill and Bucky seemed happy with it.  Why couldn’t Steve find something like that?

“So what do you want to go to college for?”  Bucky asked.

Steve snorted.  “What I want to go for and what I am going for are two totally different things.  I’ll be majoring in Business Management.”

“Well what do you really want to go for?”

Steve thought for a minute, allowing himself to think about what he really wanted.  It was strange, because he didn’t really do it that often.  Even now the responsible voices in his head told him to say business management because it would make others happy but he knows deep down that it’s not really what he wants.  As he scanned his brain he came across a memory that had brought joy to him once, but was shoved to the wayside long ago.  He reached deep inside and pulled it from the dark corners.

“Painting.”  He said firmly. 

“Really?”  Bucky leaned forward, all attention on Steve.  “Are you any good?”

“Um, maybe?”

Bucky rolled his eyes.  “C’mon man, you either know or you don’t know.”

“Well, I think I’m good.” 

“In your case it probably means your brilliant.  Have you painted anything recently that I would’ve seen somewhere?”

“God no.”  Steve quickly answered.  “I haven’t painted in years, and I’m not even that good.”

Bucky glared at Steve weaseling out from the praise.  “I call bull shit.  And if I can prove it, you owe me.”

“Owe you?”  Steve asked warily.  “What do I owe you?”

Bucky looked thoughtful but grinned wickedly.  “Oh, I’ll think of something.”

Steve’s heart had picked up speed and he gulped.  From fear or anticipation, he wasn’t quite sure.  But he did know that he was falling in love with Bucky, and that may be the scariest thing of them all.

*****

It turns out that being in love is hard.

First, Steve can’t tell his parents.  Seeing how he’s supposed to be betrothed to Sharon and also not gay – telling them that he was in love with a boy would probably give them both a heart attack.

Second, Steve really can’t talk to his friends about it, because they’re all being terrible friends about this.  Steve thought that they would all offer him advice or clap him on the back or whatever friends do for the protagonist in romantic comedy movies.

They certainly wouldn’t plan an extravagant wedding (Tony) or stand around sulking because Steve didn’t realize this sooner and could’ve won his friend $20 (Sam) or just give Steve a silent and very smug look (Natasha.)

The only person who gave Steve some sort of advice was Clint and it was the opposite of helpful due to Clint’s state at the time.

“Man when you know, you just _know_.  Like the pizza knows it’s a pizza and knows that its purpose is to feed me.  But that doesn’t make it any easier for me to eat the pizza, because this beautiful slice has _feelings_ and a _family_ and I am _murdering it!_ ”

At that point Steve had to spend twenty minutes comforting a distraught Clint and explaining the anatomy of a pizza.

So Steve was left with one more option, and it’s not that he didn’t want to resort to it but it was hard to make it work.

Organizing a call with Sharon was difficult for many reasons, one being her living in a completely different time zone.  Adding on all of her school work and her own clubs it’s a miracle that they managed to set a phone date for Friday afternoon.  Steve drove to the café after school and brought some assignments to work on while waiting for Sharon to call.  She said she would try to call at 3PM (8PM in London) but she has been known to run late with almost everything.  So Steve decided to relax and draft some schedules for his Mentees (after finally deciding to take on Wade Wilson and Peter Parker – both boys who needed as much help as they could get.)

Clint greeted him at the counter, looking much calmer than the last time Steve had seen him, and set him up with an Americano before Steve settled in at a table and pulled out his laptop.  But instead of getting to work he was finding it hard to focus and stared at the screen instead.  Steve didn’t feel bad, but for once was content with just sitting in the café and relaxing.

He noticed the file of Bucky’s paper on his laptop’s desktop and remembered that his friend was getting his paper back today.  He knows that Bucky will get a good grade on it, or at least he should be getting a good grade on it.  Bucky’s much smarter than he gives himself credit for and Steve knows he’ll have no problem getting into UNC and doing something great with his life.

While Steve will be shipped off to Stanford, studying business before returning home to work for his father.  He knows that there are guys that would kill to be in Steve’s position but that doesn’t make him anymore thankful for what he has.  Of course he’s more focused on what he doesn’t have – a father that would support his life decision.  Thinking that makes Steve feel like a jerk, but on the other hand it’s his life.  He should be able to make his own choices, not let others push their idea onto him.

Steve shook his head, dispelling the thoughts.  He needs to focus on the task at hand.  It’s not hard because it means focusing on Bucky, a pastime that Steve is more than happy to participate in.

Steve jumped as his phone vibrated loudly on the table.  He quickly answered after seeing Sharon’s name flash on the screen, eager to get her help.

“Hey Sharon.”

“ _Steve!  My god it’s great to hear your voice, how’re things?!_ ”

“Oh you know, just peachy.”

“ _Steven were you just doing some deep thinking?  You know how moody that makes you feel._ ”

Steve laughed incredulously.  “How in God’s name did you know that?”

“ _I told you, I know everything about my fake boyfriend.  Now skip the chit-chat and tell me_ everything.”

Steve quickly recapped what’s happened in his life, skipping over the argument with his father and the almost fight he got in with Tony (knowing that Sam has probably already told her about it and not wanting to talk about his father.)  By the time he finished talking his throat was sore and Clint had brought over another Americano.

“Sharon I sincerely think you’re the only person who can help me right now, everything else is being extremely useless.”

“ _Oh you know they mean well.  And I thought you and Tony had fought, did you guys make up_?”

“Well he did apologize, but you know Tony.”

“ _Right.  Was it over the top or underwhelming_.”

“Over the top.”  And it was.  Tony’s apology came to Steve on Monday morning, in the form of a brand new espresso machine set up on his counter.  Maria had just handed Steve a note with instructions and a swirly signature from Tony before she had left the kitchen with an eye roll.  And once Steve got to the school in the morning Tony was back to his normal self, save for the refusal to talk about the near-fight or espresso machine with Steve.  Exasperated Steve had let it go, but a small relieved smile had graced Tony’s face for the rest of the day and Steve also found himself thankful to be friends with Tony again.

“ _Okay_ ,” Sharon said now in Steve’s ear.  “ _First you need to relax.  Second you need to get him alone sometime, either at a party or when you’re just hanging out – I think a party is better in case he rejects you-_ ”

“Rejects me?!  Do you think he will?!”

“ _Steven, relax.  Third you both need to be sober.  Having one drink isn’t bad but make sure he’s not drunk or high so his decision is made on his own and isn’t influenced by anything else_.”

“Okay I think I can do that.  Except that I know that I can’t!”

“ _Jesus Steve you need to pull yourself together.  You’ve been alone with Bucky right?_ ”

“Right.” Steve answered frantically.

“ _And you’re happy when you’re with him right?_ ”

“Uh huh.”

“ _Then when you’re alone with him, you tell him that.  He will get the picture, and I guarantee that he will reciprocate_.”

“How do you know?!”  Steve cried.  His conversation was drawing attention from other café patrons so Steve lowered his voice and sank in his seat.  “How do you know that he won’t completely reject me?”

“ _To be honest, I don’t know._ ”  Sharon said simply.  “ _Contrary to what we’ve all told you, no one knows how Bucky is feeling except himself.  But we also don’t know how you’re feeling, so while you and I are having this conversation now Bucky could be having the exact same one with Natasha.  He may be freaking out too._ ”

Huh.  Steve never thought of it like that.

Yeah Bucky is confident and gives off an impressive aura, but it could all be a big show.  He may really be insecure and scared of this too.

Isn’t that what Steve does all the time?  Pretends like he’s all kept-together and knows what he’s doing, when in reality he’s quite close to miserable and almost hates his life?

“Okay, okay.  So I just…tell him?”

“ _Definitely.  But think about this – if he does reject you, would it be worth it_?”

Would it be worth it?  Could Steve tell Bucky how he feels, knowing that he may face cold rejection or be accepted and even experience similar affection in return?

Absolutely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally Chapter 11! I do apologize for the delay in posting this one, technology was not on my side this week – I lost half of the chapter after my computer crashed and my phone died so I had to get that replaced. But I hope you all enjoy, thanks for the love from Chapter 10! :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Songs:  
> [At Last - Etta James](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-cbOl96RFM)  
> [Talking About Love To A Cigarette - Wilderado](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oqDlKnsulto)  
> 

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes you can, we have complete faith in you.”

“Just grab his face and give him a big kiss.”

Steve thought he was ready to tell Bucky how he felt but now, at a party at Clint’s house on Saturday night, he wasn’t quite sure.  He had been panicking all day, home alone since his parents had gone away on a business trip for the weekend.  He thought it would be a good thing because they wouldn’t have to see him freaking out over a boy. But the silence in his home was too much and he ended up calling Sam and Tony, begging them to drive over and calm him down.  Which Sam did perfectly – Tony…not so much.

“Steve I tell Ms. Potts every week how beautiful she looks and why she should be with me and you don’t see me crumbling to the ground every time.”

“Well you are promised rejection every time so it’s easy.” Steve muttered.

“Ah ha!  Not quite!  She said she would go out on a date with me next week!”

“Really?” Sam asked skeptically.  “Pepper Potts said she would go on a date with you next week.”

Tony nodded proudly.  “See?  If I can finally get Pepper to want me, which I still don’t know what took so long, you can totally ask out Bucky.”

“And here’s your chance.” Sam nodded towards the door.  “He’s here.”

Steve blanched and whipped towards the front door.  Sure enough Bucky had arrived, looking windswept and handsome.  Natasha was standing next to him, speaking to Bucky.  She looked annoyed but Bucky didn’t seem fazed, just nodding and smiling at her every word.

Oh god, Steve couldn’t do this.

Just as he was thinking of an excuse to go home, Tony cupped his hands and yelled across the room.  “Bucky!  Natasha!  We’re over here!”

Steve jumped as if someone had physically shocked him and watched in horror as Bucky smiled and made his way over.  Steve sent a terrified look to both Sam and Tony.

“I can’t do this!” He whispered frantically.

“Yes you can.” Sam replied soothingly.  “Be brave.”

“And kiss his face.” Tony added helpfully.

Steve wanted to crawl away and die but it was too late.  Bucky and Natasha joined their small gathering.  Maybe if Steve pretended to be sick he could make his way to the bathroom and escape through the window, or if he fell down the staircase he could break his leg and then he’d _have_ to go home, or maybe-

“Hi.” Bucky greeted, eyes bright and his smile wide.  He was looking at Steve, who suddenly couldn’t think of a proper way to respond once those eyes were turned on him.

‘Uh’ was all he could say.  But Bucky just chuckled and looked away, saying ‘Hi’ to Sam and Tony.  He stood next to Steve, his arm almost brushing Steve’s.

“Hello boys,” Natasha said.  “Have you seen Clint? There are some people here that shouldn’t be and I need to ask if I am allowed to kick them out.”

“Why don’t you just kick them out?” Sam asked curiously.

“It gives him the impression that he’s in charge.”

“But aren’t we at his house?  Isn’t he in charge anyway?”

Tony’s question was met with a smile from Natasha.  “Yeah sure.” Without another word Natasha walked away.  Steve thought he might be able to follow after her but Sam’s firm hand on his shoulder kept him in place.

“Tony and I need refills, so we will be right back.”

“Tony just got another drink.” Steve pointed out quickly, fear of being left alone with Bucky sending his words tumbling from his mouth.

Tony chugged his beer in response, smacking his lips when he finished.  “Yeah, and now I need another one.”  He winked at Steve and left.  Sam nodded, sending Steve a significant look before following after.

Steve was frozen, petrified at being alone with Bucky. Why would they leave him alone?!  He _told_ them that he couldn’t do this.  There was no way he could tell Bucky how he felt without passing out or throwing up or a combination of the two.

Wait, what was he doing?  He shouldn’t be nervous alone with Bucky – they’ve spent plenty of time together and Steve never felt scared.  Was it because he finally knew he had feelings for Bucky?  No, that’s stupid, he’s _always_ liked Bucky, even way before he knew how awesome and kind he was.  Is it because Steve loves Bucky?  Maybe, but still he shouldn’t be scared.  Man up, Rogers lets go.

“Thanks again for helping me with my history paper.” Bucky said suddenly.  “If I didn’t have your help I never would’ve been able to do it.”

Steve started but looked over to his friend and nodded.  “It was nothing, but I’m glad I was able to help.”

“Yeah.” Bucky paused, looking thoughtful.  “Let me take you out to dinner or something, so I can thank you.”

“No wait!” Steve cried and grabbed Bucky’s arm.  Bucky’s eyes widened and he cast Steve a surprised look.

“What, do you not want to go out to dinner?”  He asked.  He didn’t sound angry or annoyed but still startled.

Crap, why did Steve have to freak out?

“No, that’s not it!”  Steve still didn’t let go of Bucky’s arm as he tried to find the right words to say. 

Oh boy, okay he was doing this now.  He was going to tell Bucky how incredible and brave and funny he thought he was.  Steve was going to tell him that Bucky was so kind and thoughtful and remembered Steve’s weird quirks and habits.  Steve was going to tell Bucky that he was so gorgeous and his eyes were so enthralling that he would get lost in them if he stared too long.

Okay maybe Steve would find a better way to phrase that last one.

“Bucky,” Steve started.  He took a deep breath to focus and looked down.  He realized he was still gripping Bucky’s arm tightly.  He made to let go but Bucky stopped him with a hand over his.

Steve’s eyes bugged and he looked back up into Bucky’s eyes, suddenly much closer than he remembered.  Bucky was looking right back, searching Steve’s face for something.  He didn’t know what, but Steve would give Bucky anything he wanted.

Steve gasped quietly, and it seemed to be Bucky’s answer, for he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Steve’s.

Steve’s mind somehow went into ecstatic overdrive and blissful calmness at the same time.  Bucky was kissing _him_.  Bucky was _kissing_ him.  _Bucky_ was kissing him.

No matter what way you put it, Bucky was kissing Steve.

Bucky pulled back, a satisfied smirk on his face.  “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Steve gave a breathless giggle.  “Me too.”

“So what took you so long?”

Steve sputtered at Bucky’s teasing question, babbling nonsense before Bucky shup him up with another kiss.  It was more insistent, more demanding, and more enticing.  Bucky had stepped right up to Steve and placed both his hands on Steve’s waist, the feather-light touch sending chills down Steve’s spine.  He went to cup Bucky’s face in his hands, finally taking Tony’s advice and just kissing Bucky.

They pulled apart again, both panting but smiling.

“God I could do that all night.” Bucky said dazedly.

Steve nodded vehemently.  “Me too.”

Bucky grinned.  “Wanna get out of here?”

Steve nodded again and Bucky grinned gloriously, slipping his hand into Steve’s and pulling him to the front door.

*****

For the first time in a long time Steve slept in.

He forgot to set his alarm clock last night his internal alarm clock didn’t pry him from bed either.  Both can definitely be blamed on the other person in Steve’s bed.

Steve stirred and smiled after he found Bucky latched onto his arm, his face tucked into the crook of Steve’s elbow.  His face was slack, mouth slightly open, and he was drooling onto Steve.

It was the most beautiful thing Steve has ever seen.

Oh god, he’s getting sappy already.

Steve took his free hand and pushed the hair back from Bucky’s face, running his fingers through the fine hair. Steve repeated the gesture over and over until Bucky hummed and opened his eyes.

“That feels so nice.” He said, his voice low and croaky from sleep.  He leaned into Steve’s hand and pulled himself closer.  “You’re an expert at playing with hair.”

Steve chuckled.  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

Bucky hummed again, a sound of contentment.  Steve tried to shift himself, slightly uncomfortable with having to reach over with his one arm while his other was falling asleep under Bucky’s weight.  But he didn’t mind it too much, just so unbelievably happy to have Bucky in his bed.

Bucky Barnes, here in Steve’s room, in _Steve’s_ house.  If his parents ever found out that he had boy sleep in the same bed as him he’d be a dead man.  The sneaking around made it all the more thrilling.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked in a tired voice. 

“Yeah,” Steve replied happily.  “Although my arm is falling asleep a little.”

Bucky paused, thinking carefully.  “Well I can’t do anything about it – I have to cuddle your arm at all times or else.”

“Or else what?” Steve asked playfully.

Bucky smirked, and moving faster than ever pounced on Steve.  He began tickling Steve’s sides, sending the blond into a fit of laughter.

“Bu-Bucky stop!” Steve cried, his giggling not convincing at all.  “Bucky!”

“I warned you.” Bucky replied in a sing-song voice, smiling as he attacked Steve’s armpits.  “This is what happens if I’m not cuddling your arm!”

Steve continued to laugh but managed to flip them, taking the upper hand as he tickled Bucky.  Bucky shrieked and tried to push Steve’s away but Steve managed to take Bucky’s hands and pin them above his head.  They stopped moving, both panting and smiling.

“Good morning.” Bucky said breathlessly.

“Morning.” Steve leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Bucky’s lips.  When he pulled away the boy’s eyes were twinkling.

“You know for someone who has never dated you are suspiciously good at kissing.”  Bucky told him. 

Steve just shook his head and finally released Bucky’s hands, sliding down beside him to wrap his arms around Bucky instead.  “You’re just saying that.”

“No it’s true.”  Bucky twisted so he was facing Steve’s face, his own face earnest.  “That thing you do with your lips, it’s amazing.”

Steve blushed and instead of responding he hid his face in Bucky’s neck.  Bucky’s hands rested in Steve’s hair, gently stroke the strands and making Steve hum himself.

“Thanks for being so…cool with everything last night.” Steve mumbled into Bucky’s neck.  After they had arrived at Steve’s empty house Bucky jumped Steve, his mouth attacking all available surfaces on Steve’s body.  And Steve couldn’t do much more than try and respond, which was difficult after Bucky unapologetically kissed and sucked Steve’s weak points once he discovered them.  They had eventually reached Steve’s room, and while Steve had been enjoying everything that Bucky gave him part of his brain was freaking out about what Steve was expected to do.

Bucky must’ve picked up on it, because he had pulled away and stared deeply into Steve’s eyes.  “We won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”  He’d assured.  His thumb had gently stroked Steve’s cheek, the gentle gesture and promise had nearly made Steve cried.  But he had just nodded instead and pulled Bucky back down.

“Of course.”  Bucky replied now.  “And I’m serious, we will move as fast as you want.  I promise.”

Steve came out from his hiding place and looked Bucky in the eye.  “Really?  And you won’t get bored or tired or anything?”

Bucky shook his head in response.  “There is no way I could get tired of you.”

Steve blushed again but was still wary.  Steve knew he was boring – focused on his studies, involved in school clubs, volunteered on the weekend, and did whatever his parents told him.  How could Bucky not get bored of him, he was already bored with himself.

“Hey.” Bucky gently set his hand on Steve’s face.  “I’m serious Steve.  I know you don’t think you’re all that, but you really are.  I knew it the second I walked into the library and saw you for the first time.  So tell those stupid voices in your head to shut up.”

Steve nodded, not able to respond.  Of course Bucky would know exactly what was going on in Steve’s head.  Bucky was so attentive and kind, he knew that Steve was putting himself down before he had really even realized it.  Bucky was amazing, he was so perfect.

“Thank you.”  Steve whispered sincerely.

Bucky smiled and kissed Steve on the nose.  When he pulled away he had a mischievous grin on his face.

“What are you thinking?” Steve asked cautiously.

“I want you to show me your paintings.”  Bucky said.  He sat up and stretched.  “And I know you have them somewhere and you’re gonna show me.”

Steve’s closet was full of his paintings.  His parents never hung up any of his finished works in the house, so his closet had several dozen canvases leaning against the wall.  His own art easel was also in there, collecting dust.

“Well, uh…” He instinctively glanced at his closet, not wanting to show Bucky his art and be made fun of.  But Bucky followed his eyes and quickly sprang from the bed.  He tore open the closet and gasped.

“Holy shit Steve!  You have so many!”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” Steve rose from the bed and hurriedly walked over to Bucky.  “Some of those are from when I was in middle school.”

“You painted this in middle school?!”Bucky held up one canvas, a painted skyline of downtown Charlotte at night.

“Well, not exactly.  That was started in 8th grade, but –”

“Wait what about this one?!”  Another held up, a football field at dawn with the morning fog rolling in.

“Okay no, that was supposed to be a present -”

“Steven Rogers!”  Bucky fully turned towards Steve, clutching one more canvas close to his chest.  “You are an amazing artist!”

Steve turned bright red and shook his head.  “Nah, I’m not -”

“Bullshit.”  Bucky looked back down at the painting in his hands.  “This is incredible.  You deserve to have everything in a gallery!”

Steve didn’t reply, feeling flustered. 

“And this means I was totally right.”  Bucky sounded satisfied as he gingerly set the painting down.  “And you totally owe me.”

“Uh okay,” Steve stammered as Bucky began to walk towards Steve predatorily.  “What do you want?”

Bucky didn’t answer, still stepping closer and closer to Steve.  Steve’s throat dried and his pulse quickened – Bucky had a look of pure desire on his face.

Steve’s legs found the edge of his mattress and Bucky pushed him down onto it.  He quickly crawled on the bed and straddled Steve’s body, still giving him a sultry look.

“I can think of a few things that I really want.”  He said, his voice low and immediately sending a shiver down Steve’s spine.  He leaned down and kissed Steve’s lips hungrily.

Steve responded in kind, weaving his hands through Bucky’s hair.  Their lips were a hot mess against each other and Steve arched his back as high as he could, wanting nothing more than to pull Bucky against him.

Bucky pulled away and moved towards Steve’s ear.  “But we’re going to have to wait on that.”  He pecked Steve’s ear and moved off him, suddenly standing up.

Steve was still lying down, dazedly trying to wrap his head around what just happened.

“Oh hey, do you have plans today?” Bucky stretched his arms, his voice returning to normal.  “If not you should come over to my house, my mom’s making Sunday Sauce.”

Steve propped himself on his arms and looked at Bucky, still a little stunned.  “Your house?”

“Uh huh.”  Bucky went to put the paintings back in Steve’s closet.  “My mom loves when I bring friends over.”

“Uh, sure.” Steve said, surprising himself.  “I mean, I only have to be back by six when my parents get back.”

“Is that your curfew for school nights?” Bucky teased with a smirk on his face.

“No.” Steve quickly said, standing up and meeting Bucky by his closet.  His back was to Steve so he wrapped his arms around Bucky’s middle.  Bucky patted his hands and twirled around, resting his arms around Steve’s neck.

“And besides, my parents would love to meet my new boyfriend.”

The butterflies fluttered in Steve’s stomach.  “Boyfriend?”  He asked cautiously, his heart nearly bursting out of his chest.

“Well, uh, I mean.”  Now it was Bucky’s turned to be rattled as he blushed and looked down.  “I mean, if you’ll have me.  I, uh, I’d like you to be my boyfriend.”

Seeing Bucky stutter over the words broke the constraints and Steve wrapped Bucky in a tight hug.  His heart was singing and he never thought he could’ve ever felt this happy.

“Of course I’ll be your boyfriend.” Steve said.  “It would be my honor.”

Bucky’s arms tightened around Steve and they stood together in Steve’s room, hugging for the first time as boyfriends.  But it was short lived before a loud growling sound erupted from Steve’s stomach.

"Do you have a dog?" Bucky asked.

Steve laughed. "No that's my stomach. Want some breakfast?"

Bucky nodded eagerly and they pulled apart. He looked around the room for his clothes, before pulling his phone out of his jeans pocket. He whistled.

"Please tell me you have twenty missed calls and texts."

Steve grabbed his phone and unlocked it. Sure enough his message app icon had was joined by a small bubble with the number 54.

"Ha I got you beat, I've got 54 messages."

"Well you are friends with Tony Stark," Bucky noted without looking up from his phone.

"Good point." Steve opened his messages and saw a majority of those messages from Tony. A few were from Sam, a couple from Clint and Natasha and even one from

Sharon, just a mix of congratulatory emojis  sent at 4am. Steve smiled to himself and locked his phone again.

He heard Bucky swear in a different language and when Steve looked over he was glaring at his phone.

"Everything okay?"

"Huh? Oh yeah," Bucky glanced up from his phone and shook his head. "Nat is just being annoying and pesky."

"Oh. Well I can go get some breakfast started if you need to call her."

"Yeah that'd probably be a good idea." Bucky tapped his phone and held it up to his ear, smiling at Steve. "I'll be down soon."

Steve nodded and went to walk downstairs. He stopped in the doorway and looked back, casting a quick glance at his (now) boyfriend. Bucky was staring out the window in Steve's room made him smile, and he walked downstairs with a spring in his step.

His boyfriend. Bucky was his boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend!

Steve had had a small hunch that telling Bucky how he felt

Steve happily turned on his espresso machine and bounced over to the fridge. Humming to himself he pulled out some eggs and toast.

Steve had just plated the food by the time Bucky came into the kitchen. He had a disgruntled look on his face, but that's not what Steve focused on.

"Is that my shirt?"

Bucky grinned in response. "I can't go home in the same clothes, Stevie. What would the neighbors think??"

Steve blushed and shook his head, grabbing the brewed espresso and mixing it into two mugs filled with hot water.

"What laundry detergent do you use, it smells amazing?"

"Not sure." Steve answered. He passed on of the mugs to Bucky and took a plate from the counter.

"What, don't you do your own laundry?" Bucky followed Steve to the breakfast nook and set his breakfast down. "Or do you have servants to do your chores."

Steve grumbled. "I don't know." And he really didn't. Maria handled the upkeep of the house, there was probably a service she hired to clean and whatever. Steve would just leave his clothes in the hamper and they would be returned to his closest clean.

"Oh man that is priceless." Bucky said gleefully as he ate.

"What?"

"$20 says you don't even know how to turn on a washer. Or know how to separate whites from brights."

"I could do that!" Steve argued. "I don't do my laundry but I'm not colorblind."

Bucky chortled into his coffee and duck his head down. His teasing attitude did nothing to make Steve feel better so he just looked down at his plate and tried not to let it sting.

A foot nudged against his and he glanced over at Bucky giving him a warm smile. "I'm just messing with you. If it makes you feel better I don't do my own laundry either."

"You asshole." Steve cursed but he smiled back.

The boys finished their breakfast and cleaned up. The entire process took an hour, seeing how Steve really didn't know where any cleaning supplies were in his house and how Bucky sprayed Steve with the faucet hose most of the time.

By the time the kitchen was cleaned Steve needed to shower and change. He picked his clothes consciously, knowing that he was going to meet the parents of his boyfriend.

Steve still got a little thrill calling Bucky his boyfriend. He wondered when it would wear off - probably never.

Steve came down the stairs, showered and clothed into a blue checkered shirt with khakis, and found Bucky staring at the family portrait above the fireplace.

It was a commissioned piece by a local artist, who worked from a still picture of the family. It was a gift from the Starks and it was beautifully done.

But Steve hated it. The picture the artist used was from his freshman year, and he hadn't hit his growth spurt yet. He was behind his parents, sitting on an ornate couch, and his head barely passed theirs.

Steve also thought it was incredibly vain of his parents to put something like this up in their house. Sure it was a gift and it was a beautiful painting. But his mother's face was made years younger and his father displayed a strong sense of power. And Steve of course looked frail and weak.

It was an exaggeration, something so fake that it made Steve angry every time he looked at it.

He now stood next to Bucky and quickly glanced at his face. Bucky looked thoughtful as he took in the painting.

"Did you paint this?" He asked quietly.

"God no." Steve answered. "I could never paint something this good."

Bucky hummed. Steve really wasn't sure what to make of it - did he like it? Was it impressive? Arrogant?

Steve panicked for a second as he realized that Bucky was seeing the skinny, scrawny Steve. Would he think that Steve was ugly? I mean of course he would, how could he not?

"I could tell you didn't paint this." Bucky said. "It's missing....something."

"Like what?" Steve asked.

"I don't know. There's just not something that makes me go...ahhhh." Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve's waist and pulled him closer. "Like the feeling I get when I can do this."

Steve turned pink but leaned into Bucky. "Well I don't think it's meant to be a painting that makes you go, uh, 'ah.' I mean, it's just a portrait."

"I know, I know." Bucky nodded his assent. "But even with your old paintings in your room I felt something when I looked at them. Something that made me feel whole."

"Oh." Steve really wasn't sure what to make of Bucky's critique. He didn't know if the 'ah' feeling that Bucky felt was a good thing or bad thing but honestly? Steve didn't really care.

Because standing with Bucky now, looking at the painting and looking at his enhanced family, Steve felt a little something in his chest too. A little 'ah' feeling of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter! I know it is so incredibly late, and I do apologize for the delay. And I regret to inform that next week I will probably be late on posting as well. I am moving to a new state and the past weeks I've been packing and getting everything in order. And when I do finally move I will need time to get settled. But I am NOT abandoning this fic! Thank you all for the love from the last chapter! :) <3


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